


Bedside Manner

by JamieJam93



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Past Character Death, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieJam93/pseuds/JamieJam93
Summary: When Harry, a nurse on the cancer floor of one of the most well-respected hospitals around, starts taking on longer shifts, it's because he loves his work. When he starts skipping his breaks to make lively conversation with his patients, it's because he strives to take their minds of off their illness, if only for a few minutes. And when he starts staying hours past the end of his shift to hang out in one particular patient's room, it's simply because the man is sad and lonely, and one of Harry's goals is to make every patient smile at least once a day. It is absolutely, positively not because he's falling in love with Louis Tomlinson.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I debated on whether to write/post this story or not because of 1) all the tragedy poor Louis has faced in his life and 2) all that's going on in the world right now. It is important to know that I am not trying to glamorize cancer or any other illness. Right now, I am in Louis's shoes (though I made him seem a bit more interesting and fun than I am) and have been struggling to write or do anything, really. Recently, I found inspiration in a cute nurse who stays after work for a chat sometimes and sneaks me pieces of his birthday cake ;) (Most of us can't have outside visitors right now because of COVID-19.) He is not, I'm sure, falling in love with me, but a man can dream. 
> 
> There will be a happy ending. I think we could all use one right now.

Harry was shaking so much that he could barely tie the drawstrings attached to the bottoms of his scrubs. He’d been so confident in his dream to be a nurse. His family often told him he was underestimating himself because shouldn’t he ‘become a doctor instead?’ But Harry never wanted to be a doctor. It had nothing to do with the feeling as if he couldn’t. He had been sure, up until this very moment, that he would be more than able to put in the hard work and dedication required to become a doctor. But that wasn’t his dream. He didn’t want to spend the minimal amount of time possible with a patient, barely listening to what they were saying before fleeing off to the next one, somehow thirty minutes late to the appointment even though he’d given the last individual not even fifteen minutes of his time. He didn’t want to deliver bad news to his patients; didn’t want to be the one looking in their eyes when they first heard that they were dying at a faster rate than everybody else. Harry wanted to be the one the patients actually liked; someone who took care of them after the doctor diagnosed them.

Now, though, the nurse was quite wondering what he had gotten himself into.

Less than a month ago, Harry had gotten his nursing license. Quickly, he’d been hired onto one of the most respected hospitals around, his 3.9 GPA no doubt helping him get there. (He should have gotten a 4.0 GPA, but thanks to a long Halloween night out with his friend Niall, Harry had failed to wake up to his alarm and missed an exam that Professor Littlefield refused to let him make up. Niall still felt terrible, but Harry assured him it wasn’t his fault. Sure, he’d encouraged him to take those eight shots and he bought him his fourth drink after Harry had claimed to be done, but he hadn’t tied Harry down and forced him to ingest them. The blame rested on Harry.)

After managing only a couple bites of cereal and less than a half cup of tea, Harry blew a kiss to the picture frame holding a photograph of his best friend, saying a quick, shaky, ‘Wish me luck,’ before getting into his car and heading to the hospital.

He’d gotten there early, but it had been a ‘calm’ morning, according to Nurse Paige, and so she gave Harry a tour of the hospital, showing him where to put his things, where he could use the toilet, and where to grab a bite of lunch-on the days he had time, of course.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked Harry with a small smile on her face. She used the pet name as if Harry were decades younger than her when, really, he was probably only five or six years her junior. “You look pale.”

“I’m always pale in the Winter,” Harry said, smiling to the best of his ability. “But I’m fine. Just nervous.”

“There’s no need to be,” Paige assured him, though Harry felt otherwise. He was dealing with very ill individuals. Their lives were quite literally in his hands, in some cases. “You’ll do great!”

Harry thanked her although, of course, neither one of them had any idea how Harry would perform in his new career.

“Come on,” Paige said, tapping Harry’s wrist lightly. “I’ll introduce you to some of my favorite patients who will be sure to brighten your day.”

Harry nodded, genuinely excited over that idea. This is what he was in it for; the people. Of course, it would be a hard and sometimes heartbreaking job, but he knew that whatever he went through with the patients was nothing compared to the pain they felt, and that their loved ones felt. If Harry could make even one person smile every now and then, he thought he would be satisfied with his work.

First, Paige introduced Harry to an elderly woman named Gwyneth. She was sweet and encouraging, and kept Harry talking for over ten minutes. As he left her room, he did feel better. He’d almost forgotten what he was nervous about.

The second patient was a younger woman in her early twenties. Her name was Andrea, and Harry quickly found out she was Paige’s cousin. Though most of the conversation that took place during that visit was between Paige and Andrea, the two did think to include Harry every now and then. When Paige announced they should be going, Andrea asked,

“Who are you introducing him to next?”

“I’m not sure. Any suggestions?” Paige asked.

“I don’t know, but if it’s Louis, make sure to tell him hi for me!”

Paige rolled her eyes, but was smiling, clearly amused.

“Will do. Would you like me to ask if he’s had a miraculous change in sexuality yet too?”

“Well…if you can work it into the conversation...”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she turned and left the room. Harry figured he should follow, so after a quick wave to the woman in the hospital bed, he followed Paige from the room.

“We are going to see Louis,” she told Harry. “I didn’t want to tell Andrea because she would have wanted to tag along, and you don’t need to see her make a fool of herself quite yet.”

“She’s got a bit of a crush on this guy, I’m assuming?” Harry asked, smiling because Paige was.

“Yeah, a bit,” she said. “But, sadly for her, Louis is gay. He is probably my favorite patient though, even including Andrea, so I saved the best for last.”

Louis’s door was half shut, and Paige knocked softly, probably in case the patient was sleeping.

“Forget something?” a voice from inside called and, looking confused, Paige announced who she was.

“Oh,” the voice from inside said. “Come on in.”

Opening the door, Paige stepped inside.

“Sorry, I thought you were one of my…sisters.”

Louis’s voice trailed off as he noticed Harry, who gave his kindest smile. Ignoring what Louis had said, Paige announced,

“Louis, this is Harry. He’s a new nurse, so be kind to him. And Harry, this is Louis.”

“Also known as, the light of the cancer floor,” Louis added, smiling and waving to Harry. Harry stepped forward to shake his hand, trying to appear confident though suddenly, he’d never felt less so, not even that morning. Louis had a beautiful smile, gorgeous blue eyes that held a hint of green, and wisps of thin brown hair peeking out from under his beanie. The man was pale; probably much paler than was typical for him when he was healthy, and there were subtle dark circles under those pretty eyes, but his attractiveness was undeniable. He could see why Andrea had a crush on him and empathized with her for the fact that Louis was, apparently, gay.

However, that was great news for himself.

_No,_ Harry scolded himself, fighting off those thoughts that he should not be having about a patient. _Just, no, you sick fuck. What is wrong with you?_

Luckily, Louis and Paige seemed unaware of all that was going on in Harry’s head, and Harry was still present enough in the real world to comprehend conversation when Louis asked him,

“Is today your first day?”

“Yep. Sure is,” Harry said.

“I’ll go easy on you then,” Louis said, and winked. Did people really wink in real life? Apparently this guy called Louis did.

“Louis gets to go home in a few days anyway,” Paige said to Harry, though she smiled at Louis. “He was here to undergo a stem cell transplant, but his numbers came back much better than we thought they would, so we’re going to do a strong round of chemo tomorrow and he should be going home a day or two after that.”

“I still have to do the transplant,” Louis said with a sigh. “But I at least get to wait until the end of term, probably.”

“You’re going through all of this while you’re in school?” Harry asked, impressed, and also concerned. How old _was_ Louis?!

“I’m a teacher,” Louis said. “I teach Psychology, though I promise I am not as boring as that makes me sound.”

“You’re definitely not boring,” Paige said. “Anyway, Louis, we need to be going. Harry’s got some paperwork to do and all that. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay right now,” Louis said. “Thanks. See you around, Paige. See ya, Harry.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Harry said, reluctantly following Paige.

“Oh yeah, Louis,” Paige said, stopping for a moment a foot away from the door. “Andrea says hi.”

With a wide grin, Louis said,

“Right back at her.”

Louis’s smile was still burned into Harry’s mind as he sat down to complete the new hire paperwork Paige had given him, but luckily, he was soon so busy that it faded from his mind. That was, until Paige called from her desk,

“Hey, Harry, Louis’s call button is going off. Do you want to go see what he wants?”

Harry was out of his seat before he’d even made the conscious decision to stand.

“Okay,” he said, quite calmly compared to how fast he had moved, and he walked quickly-but not too quickly-to the patient’s room.

“What can I get for you?” Harry asked as he entered. The other man looked confused for a moment, as if he’d forgotten who Harry was already, but then smiled and said,

“Oh, hi, Harry. I was just going to ask for some more tissues, when someone has a chance. I ran out of them, and I feel a nosebleed coming on.”

“Sure. I’ll get those for you,” Harry said. “Be right back.”

He hurried to the supply closet, which Paige had shown him earlier, and then back to Louis’s room with some tissues, but even though he felt he’d been quick, Louis’s nosebleed had already begun full force. There was blood on his hands, as he was doing his best to cover his nose and prevent the stream from making a mess, but it wasn’t doing much good, since the blood was on his shirt, pants, pillow, and bed as well.

“Here are the tissues. I’ll go get you a wet washcloth,” Harry said, setting the requested tissues beside Louis and slipping on gloves before hurrying for the washcloth.

“Thanks,” Louis said when Harry returned, trading the wet tissues for the washcloth and leaning forward so the blood wouldn’t go down his throat. Once he had gotten it under control, Harry said,

“If you’d like to go clean up, I’ll change your sheets.”

Louis nodded, though did so carefully, as if moving his head too quickly would cause a flood again. After washing his hands, Louis retrieved another pair of his own pajamas from a large duffel bag by the window and went to the bathroom to change. Harry worked quickly to change his sheets and he was just finishing up when Louis returned.

“Feeling okay?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Louis replied with an apologetic smile. “So much for making your first day easy, huh?”

“Eh, a nosebleed isn’t so bad,” Harry said, smiling reassuringly. “I’m going to take these sheets to the laundry. Do you need anything?”

“Some juice? Just when you have the chance. Apple, please.”

“Sure thing.”

After being directed on where to take the dirty laundry, Harry discarded his gloves, washed his hands, and went to the kitchen to get some apple juice for Louis, all the while thinking of different points of conversation he could potentially have with him when he went back to his room. He hadn’t been able to think of anything good, but that was alright because Louis was asleep when Harry returned with his juice. He set the cup on Louis’s nightstand and quietly left the room, hoping he could think of something interesting to talk about once Louis woke up and inevitably needed some ice for his drink.

Unfortunately, the next time Louis pressed his call button, Harry had been in the toilet, so he didn’t get to see the cute patient again before he went home for the day. On the way back to his apartment, he chastised himself again for being attracted to a patient. Day one on the job and he was already breaking a sacred rule in the code of ethics.

“Don’t ask,” Harry said to his best friend’s photograph as he passed it to go to his refrigerator and warm up some leftover mac-and-cheese. He ate in front of the TV, keeping the volume a little too loud in the hopes that it would drown out immoral thoughts. Mostly, the plan was successful.

Once Harry started nodding off, he washed the few dishes he’d used for breakfast and dinner, changed into his night clothes, brushed his teeth, and climbed into bed, sighing as his body melted into the mattress.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Harry assured his best friend, looking at a different photograph-one of the both of them-that was on his nightstand. He took the photo in for a moment, smiling at the memory. They had been eighteen and on their first holiday without parents. The two were on the beach and blitzed, but the smiles on their faces as they sat on the edge of the ocean, looking over their shoulders and smiling at his friend’s boyfriend, who had been taking the picture, were not from the numerous cocktails they’d already consumed that day. They had been genuinely happy there; no parents around, no schoolwork to worry about anymore…Life had been great. Nothing, they thought, could ever take away the happiness they felt that day.

With a sigh that was both happy and sad, Harry slid his finger across his friend’s face, turned off the light, and said,

“Goodnight, Liam.”


	2. Chapter 2

Louis was awakened from a peaceful sleep-the best sleep he’d gotten in a while-by the eerie feeling of being watched. Of course, this wasn’t all that abnormal while staying at the hospital. Nurses came in at all hours to check vitals and make sure their patients had not yet reached the final stage of their illness. However, the feeling didn’t fade, and Louis didn’t hear footsteps or the faint sound of a nurse jotting information down on a piece of paper or the dry erase board hanging on the wall opposite his bed. Louis wondered what time it was. Hell, he wasn’t even quite sure what day it was. Had he fallen asleep for a nap, or was it a completely new day? He supposed he should open his eyes and figure out what was going on.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Andrea sitting next to him, but he startled anyway. He’d been half convinced that he was imagining the eyes boring into him.

Upon seeing that he was awake, Andrea smiled, unapologetic over the fact that she’d almost given his frail body a heart attack.

“Good morning!” she greeted cheerily, popping a peanut into her mouth.

“Is it morning?” Louis questioned.

“Well, it’s eleven fifty-eight, which is still technically morning. You were quite worrying us, though, Tomlinson. You didn’t even stir when Aida switched out your pillow.”

“What’d she switch out my pillow for?”

“Nosebleed.”

“Again?”

“Apparently.”

Louis sighed; rubbed his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he assured his friend. “Was just tired.”

“If you’re sure,” Andrea said, and then changed the subject. Clearly, she had not visited Louis to discuss whether he thought his time on Earth was drawing to a close or not.

“Did you meet the new nurse? Harry?”

“Yeah, I saw him for a few minutes.”

“He’s cute, huh?”

“Nah,” Louis said, and Andrea froze with a peanut halfway to her mouth, raising her eyebrows like Louis had lost his mind. With a tilted grin, Louis said,

“He’s hot as fuck.”

Andrea laughed, throwing a peanut at Louis, who caught it in his mouth. The woman cheered loudly, causing Aida to enter the room, smiling but with her eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Is everything okay in here?” she questioned.

“Yes, Aida,” Andrea answered the plump, middle aged woman with tan skin and kind eyes. “Everything is fine.”

Aida gave Andrea a look, as if she thought her and Louis to be up to something (which wasn’t a completely out-of-the-box concept) and then turned her attention to the man.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, Louis. You were worrying us quite a bit.”

“Can’t a guy get some sleep around here every now and then?” Louis replied.

“No,” Andrea answered.

“I’m about to leave for the day,” Aida informed the two. “Paige will be here for a couple more hours and then it will be Elizabeth and Harry looking over you.”

“Oh, we’ll be looking over Harry, too,” Andrea said, and Louis snorted, nearly spitting out the sip of water he’d just taken. Aida sighed.

“If I have to take an early retirement for mental health purposes, rest assured, it will be because of the pair of you.”

“We appreciate you, Aida!” Louis called after the nurse’s retreating back. He and Andrea shared a smile.

“Anyway, back to hot topics,” the woman said, “aren’t you proud of me?! I actually have an attraction towards a straight man!”

Louis knew that Andrea had a crush on him, but he wasn’t bothered. It was partly his fault anyway. He’d assumed his homosexuality had been obvious, so when she asked him to hang out during a period where neither were hospitalized, he hadn’t known she was asking with deeper intentions. When he apologetically explained that, though Andrea was nice and beautiful and he liked her a lot, but he was not romantically or sexually interested in women, she had taken it well and had then become one of Louis’s best friends. These days, she was probably his only friend besides his sisters.

“You think Harry’s straight?” Louis asked, his eyebrows rising as he took another drink. Andrea’s face fell.

“You don’t?” she asked.

“I’m getting a bi vibe from him,” Louis said.

“Well, bi is okay,” Andrea decided. “I can go for bi.”

Louis shook his head, a smile on his face.

“Are nurses even allowed to date patients?” he asked.

“I’m not asking for anything long-term,” Andrea replied. “I don’t even know how long I’ll be on Earth. All I want is one night of fun, even if he has to consider it my ‘make a wish’ wish.”

“I think you’re a bit old for that foundation,” Louis pointed out.

“It would just be between me and him,” Andrea said, “and you, because you know I would give you all the details.”

“Oh my god.”

Louis covered his face, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly what her expression was when she spoke next, sounding smug.

“Well, I best be going. Lots to do today!”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure,” Louis said. He listened to Andrea’s footsteps fade from the room before he took his hands away from his face, still smiling. The grin was only broken by a yawn as he looked around, if only because there was nothing else to do. He had a slight headache, which was probably from sleeping through dinner the previous evening, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to eat now. He had chemotherapy in just a few hours and even though he would be dreadfully weak if he didn’t eat something before, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to vomit today, especially if Hot Nurse Harry was on duty.

Eventually, Louis agreed to eating some Saltines after Paige wouldn’t leave him alone about it, though they tasted sour in his mouth. This was not a good sign.

Louis was sitting by his window, looking out, hugging his knees, and feeling sorry for himself, when Harry entered the room. Immediately, Louis took a more neutral pose. Self-pity was not cute, though neither was thinning hair, dry, pasty skin, or dark eye bags, so Louis didn’t know why he was trying.

“Good afternoon,” Harry greeted with that wide, dimpled grin that made Louis’s heart pitter-patter the first time he saw it. At the flutter in his chest, he realized that had yet to change. “How are you feeling today?” the nurse continued.

“Fine. Just a little tired. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you. I’ve been informed that I need to take you to your chemotherapy session in about an hour so I’m going to need to get your temperature first to make sure you can go through with that. You don’t have to move.”

Louis nodded, staying in his seat by the window, and as he was free from his noisy hospital machine for the time being, Harry placed a thermometer under his tongue. If Louis were drunk, or, indeed, feverish, he may have asked Harry if he’d like to put something else in his mouth too. As it was, Louis was not allowed to drink alcohol in the hospital, of course, and his temperature was normal, so he refrained from making an idiot of himself for the time being.

“I have to take your blood pressure still, but would you like something small to eat or anything to drink before your treatment?” Harry asked.

“No, thank you,” Louis replied.

“Anything to make you comfy?”

_Comfy?_ Was this guy serious?

“You do realize you don’t work on a pediatrics’ floor?” Louis said with a small laugh. Harry smiled apologetically, but he didn’t say sorry.

“I’m aware,” he replied. “But ‘make you comfortable’ sounds too…hospice-y. You’re not in hospice.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever, if we can help it.”

With a softer smile than his previous teasing one, Louis said,

“You’re so optimistic. Is this your first gig?”

“It is, actually,” Harry said as he put a blood pressure cuff around Louis’s bicep. Louis wished Harry could have felt his arms when he’d had muscle.

“Figured. It’s not mine.”

“No?” Harry asked, engaged in the conversation although he was focused on the device’s reading.

“Third,” Louis told him. Harry was quiet for a moment, and Louis thought he’d gotten to him, but then he said,

“Third time’s a charm. You’ve beat it twice, what’s another round?”

“Could be three strikes you’re out.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. You’re much too spunky.”

Louis laughed and Harry was smiling as he took the cuff off him.

“All good?” Louis asked.

“All good,” Harry verified.

“Thrilling.” 

Louis moved from the window to his bed, the sunlight starting to give him a worse headache. He could have asked for something to take, but he knew that soon, a headache would be the least of his ailments, so after assuring Harry that he didn’t need anything else, Harry left to tend to the next patient.

Even though he’d slept almost sixteen hours the previous night, Louis must have dozed off again because before he knew it, he was being woken gently by Harry and told it was time for his treatment.

“Would you like the wheelchair?” Harry questioned, and Louis made a show of looking offended.

“Do I look like I need a wheelchair?”

With a smile, Harry said, “Had to ask.”

As he sat, waiting for the IV which would drip the poison called chemo into his veins, Louis already started to feel sick. The psychology teacher in him knew it was a response to the situation. Usually, sitting in this room and receiving these treatments made him sick, so the saliva started to fill his mouth before the nauseating medicine had even entered his bloodstream. Taking a few calming breaths, Louis shut his eyes and leaned his head back. It was going to be a long few hours, but this was nothing he wasn’t used to.

Harry was there with that damned wheelchair to take him back to his room once his session was over, but Louis excused himself to the loo before going with Harry. There wasn’t much in his body to expel, but it tried, and he succeeded in coughing up a small amount of bile.

The room was turning dark when Louis reached Harry so, feeling ashamed, he collapsed into the wheelchair. Thankfully, Harry didn’t say a word about it as he pushed him back to his room and helped him onto the bed. When Louis requested another blanket, Harry found him one and tucked it comfortably around the ill man. Louis started to wonder if he had kids at home.

“Cozier?” Harry asked as Louis’s eyes closed of their own accord.

“Mhm,” the other man mumbled, melting into the pillow. “Comfy and cozy.”

Harry gave a small laugh.

“If you need anything else, you know how to reach us.”

“Mhm,” Louis said again, and he thought he was asleep before Harry was even out of the room.

*****

As Harry was eating breakfast the morning of his second day of work, he received a text from someone he hadn’t heard from in a while, and which almost brough tears to his eyes.

_How did your first day go?_ Zayn asked, and Harry was quick to reply.

_It went well. I think I’ll really like it._

_Good._

_Yeah. So, how are you?_

Zayn never replied to that message. Harry wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed.

Louis had chemotherapy that day, and though he very clearly did not want to admit weakness, Harry could tell the session had been rough. Of course, Harry didn’t think that made Louis weak at all. He had to be pretty strong, Harry thought, to be battling this devil-created disease for the third time.

Since Louis had missed dinner due to his chemotherapy session, Harry let him sleep for an hour afterward before he was told that he had to take dinner to Louis’s room and offer it to him, or leave it if he wouldn’t wake up.

Tiptoeing into the room, Harry didn’t plan on even trying to wake Louis, almost one hundred percent sure that he was not going to want to eat. As Harry put the food on Louis’s nightstand, the other man groaned, turning his head into his pillow.

“Ugh, what the bloody hell is that?!”

“Um…looks like turkey, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” Harry said, and Louis began breathing deeply into his pillow.

“Mate, take that away from me before I barf everywhere.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Please and thanks.”

“No problem.”

Harry discarded Louis’s unwanted dinner, his face burning. He’d known trying to give Louis food had been a bad idea, but the others had made him. Now Louis probably hated him.

He probably should have left well enough alone and gone back to his desk to continue reading the company’s handbook-the task Nurse Elizabeth had assigned to him when he wasn’t doing something else for her that day-but Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, so instead, he went back to Louis’s room. The other was lying down, still awake, and continuing to practice his deep breathing.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. “They told me I had to bring it in here to you.”

“Not your fault, mate.”

Harry nodded, awkwardly bounced on the balls of his feet, and asked, “Do you need anything?”

“Less lymphocytes. More red blood cells.”

“We’re working on that,” Harry promised.

“Other than that, I think I’m good, then.”

“Alright, well…page if you need anything.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, Harry.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was after ten o’ clock when Harry left work. He was exhausted, and as he walked to his car, he wondered if Niall would be drunk enough yet as to not get upset if Harry told him he couldn’t make it to the Christmas party he was throwing that night. Before he could contemplate the matter too far, he received a Snapchat from that very man and opened it to see the message, _Look who actually showed up!!!!,_ followed by a video of Zayn taking a blowjob shot without using hands and then licking the whipped cream from his lips expertly.

_Liam you were a lucky son-of-a-bitch,_ Harry silently told his friend as he smiled and replied to Niall by saying,

_Damn Zayn! On my way…save some of those for me!_

Once he was there, Harry couldn’t believe he almost hadn’t gone to the party. Sure, he was determined to be a responsible adult now, but who said adults couldn’t have some fun too?

The music coming from Niall’s flat was so loud that Harry heard it as he pulled up, before he even got out of his car. Surely the whole neighborhood had to be inside, or the police would have been called by now.

Figuring no one would hear if he knocked on the door or rang the bell, Harry decided to let himself in. He waved and said hello to familiar looking people whose names he couldn’t recall as he made his way to the kitchen where, sure enough, he found Niall and Zayn getting another round of shots ready.

“Heeeeeey!” Niall cheered, giving Harry a one-armed hug around the shoulders when Harry said his hello. “Make that one more shot please, Zayn. How’s it going, H?”

Harry told them he was doing fine and asked the same of them. Niall said he was ‘swell’ and Zayn didn’t answer, but gave Harry a small smile as he turned around and handed him a shot.

“These ones are for us first,” he said and, on the count of three, the trio clinked their glasses together and took their shot. Harry could so vividly remember a time when there were four glasses that, for a moment, he thought he counted that many held up in the air.

“Fuck,” Harry said, making a face that Niall and Zayn laughed at. “I haven’t had anything that strong in a while.”

“I know,” Niall said. “I thought you were supposed to become cooler when you went to uni, but you became pretty lame.”

“Thanks, bro,” Harry said, but laughed, unoffended. It was true. Besides that one Halloween, Harry hadn’t drank throughout university except for having a small glass of wine on Sunday evenings to congratulate himself on completing his homework for the week.

“That means you want another one, right?” Zayn asked, already pouring Harry another before he heard his answer. Niall called the rest of the partygoers to come and get their shots, and together, the whole lot downed their poison. Many people were coughing and sputtering afterward, so Harry took comfort in the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who thought Zayn made them too strong. Of course, he wasn’t going to say anything. Zayn hadn’t been to a Christmas party, or any other kind of celebration or get-together, in nearly four years, sans for once when they took him to a club. That night had ended in tears, though, and ever since then, Zayn had kept his distance. Harry got it, but he didn’t like it.

Politely, Niall and Zayn tried to question Harry more about his new job, but it was hard to talk with people laughing, screaming, singing (badly), dancing, bumping into them, and, sometimes, hitting on them. Soon, Niall ended up dancing with a lady that he had never seen before while Zayn joined a game of beer pong. Harry stayed off to the side, nursing the bottle of wine he’d claimed all for himself and eating snacks, perfectly content.

Niall’s dancing only lasted a couple of songs and then he was next to Harry again.

“Where’d Zayn go?” he said into Harry’s ear, his voice starting to slur. Harry pointed with his bottle over to the beer pong table, and Niall put a hand on his heart as he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I feel like a proud dad right now,” he said. Harry smiled. As if he knew they were talking about him, Zayn turned around, grinning as he waved the pair over.

“Come on!” he urged. “We’re about to start round two!”

Though Harry wasn’t much for beer pong, or even beer for that matter, he wasn’t about to turn Zayn’s invitation down so, with a nod of solidarity, Harry and Niall took another long swig from their respective bottles and gathered around the table. Harry thought, not for the first time, how lucky Niall was that his rental home didn’t have carpet.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re hungover!”

Louis saw Harry wince at the volume of his voice-just further proof that he was, indeed, hungover-but instead of admitting so, Harry said,

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Louis insisted. “I will have you know that I have had my fair share of hangovers and can spot one when I see one.”

“This conversation is inappropriate. Arm, please.”

Louis held out his arm, allowing Harry to put the blood pressure cuff on him, but he was not deterred that easily.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Louis said. “Everyone has gone to work hungover at least once in their life. So, what’s your poison? Vodka? Rum? Tequila? I bet you’re a tequila kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“Mostly wine,” Harry admitted. “There were some tequila shots thrown in, though, with a various arraignment of other sorts.”

“Nice!” Louis said, impressed.

“Not really,” Harry disagreed. “I’m typically not much of a drinker. Hence…”

“The hangover,” Louis finished for him.

“Precisely. Under your tongue.”

Louis smirked slightly as he allowed Harry to slip the thermometer in his mouth. He didn’t think the nurse noticed as he marked some number down onto Louis’s sheet. When the thermometer beeped, Harry took it out and a small frown touched his face.

“You’ve got a small fever,” he said, showing Louis the number.

“One hundred point one! That hardly counts!” Louis exclaimed, almost in a whine. “I’m supposed to go home today.”

“I’m not sure the doctor will allow that to happen with a fever,” Harry said.

“I want to go home.”

“That’s not up to me,” Harry said, though his voice wasn’t unsympathetic. “I’ll run it by the doctor to make sure, but I’m just preparing you for what may happen.”

“Maybe you should have a different nurse take my temperature,” Louis suggested, causing Harry’s eyebrows to pull together. He looked mildly offended as he asked,

“Why?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that I think you don’t know how to do your job,” Louis assured the man. “It’s just that, well…It’s to be expected that my temperature would rise a bit when I have a hot nurse standing so close to me, isn’t it?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, but that didn’t stop the blush from tinting his cheeks pink.

“Let me go talk to your doctor and then I’ll be back.”

“Put in a good word for me to go home!”

Harry shook his head, though his dimples had made an appearance, showing that he was struggling not to smile. Feeling quite proud of himself, Louis moved from where he was sitting by the window, to his bed. He supposed he did feel a bit feverish, but he was usually tired and achy for the first couple of days after chemo, so he’d been hoping that was all his physical symptoms were from.

It didn’t take long for Harry to return, wearing a solemn expression. The last bits of hope Louis had clung onto evaporated and before Harry spoke, he asked,

“He’s making me stay, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry apologized, making a strange face at himself afterward. “Louis,” he corrected.

“You can call me Lou,” the patient allowed. Harry gave a nod, pulled a chair over closer to the side of Louis’s bed, and sat down.

“He said to give you something to try and lower the fever. We’ll monitor you today and if your fever is gone by tonight, you may still get to go home later tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Louis sighed, knowing it was no use to complain to Harry about his unfortunate situation. Trying to look on the bright side, Louis told himself that he at least had some pleasant eye candy while in the hospital.

Harry continued,

“I’d rather put your medication in an IV than have you take pills. Since you haven’t eaten much, I’m afraid pills might be too hard on your stomach.”

“If I eat something, can I take the pills instead?” Louis asked, rubbing the spots where he’d had multiple IVs inserted during the past couple of weeks. Gently taking the same arm in his gloved hand, Harry looked over the bruised veins and then examined his other arm, which was significantly less damaged.

“The choice is yours, of course,” Harry said, “but if you take it from the IV, it will be just as effective even if you end up getting sick. Either way, though, I would love if you tried to eat something besides Saltines.”

“Fine,” Louis sighed. “I’ll take the IV and eat some soup.”

“What kind?”

“Chicken noodle.”

“Alright. I’ll go put your order in and bring back the IV.”

“Okay. Can’t wait.”

Harry smiled, then exited the room. Louis sighed, laid down, and stared at the ceiling, trying to stop the feelings of self-pity before they fully reached him. He didn’t like feeling sorry for himself. Millions of other people were going through exactly what he was or worse, and besides, feeling sorry for himself used up energy that could be put toward more positive matters, such as getting better. With each time he was told he had leukemia, though, his self-pity seemed to get stronger. He was only twenty-six, but he was getting tired of fighting. It seemed this disease was determined to take him out eventually, and in the meantime, it was bound to make him as miserable as it could.

His phone dinged, alerting Louis of a new text message, and after picking up the mobile from the nightstand, Louis saw that the person trying to get a hold of him was Andrea.

_Elizbeth said I can’t come see you because you have a fever =[_ , she’d typed, and Louis responded.

_Yeah, a small one, and so now I have to stay. So stupid._

_Are you going to be okay?_

_Emotionally, yes. Physically, I guess we’ll find out._

Louis wasn’t feeling sorry for himself in that reply. It was the simple truth, and he knew Andrea would understand, as she had the same feelings about life, death, and fate.

_You’re not allowed to die before I see you again!_ , the woman said, and added a winking emoji. With a small smile, Louis replied,

_I’ll do my best._

Harry had been bummed, thinking he wasn’t going to be able to see Louis again until Springtime after that day, but he wasn’t so disappointed as to wish Louis had to stay. Though he’d tried to remain humorous about the situation, Harry could see in Louis’s eyes how upset he was over having to spend at least another night in the hospital. Of course, Harry couldn’t blame him. The food wasn’t great, the beds weren’t that comfortable, and patients rarely ever got a moment of privacy. Harry felt guilty, even though he was doing what was best for Louis, as he hooked him up to the IV which would drip medicine into his system meant to relieve his fever. If someone weren’t aware of Louis’s illness, it was very possible they would think him to be a drug abuser due to the marks on his arms.

When Harry returned to Louis’s room to deliver his soup, he watched as the man took his first bite and made a face.

“Something the matter with it?” Harry asked.

“It tastes sour,” he said.

“Would you like me to get you a new bowl? Or something else to eat?”

“No, thanks,” Louis said with the smallest of sighs. “The Saltines tasted sour too. It’s just me.”

“Maybe you would have better luck with something sweet then?” Harry suggested.

“Maybe,” Louis said.

“Wait right here.”

Hurrying to his locker, Harry took the Tupperware container holding one of the cupcakes from Niall’s Christmas party. Knowing he’d eaten his fair share both the previous night and that morning, Harry carried the container back to Louis’s room, feeling paranoid that he would be stopped and reprimanded for an innocent, yet frowned-upon action. Luckily, no one seemed to pay him a bit of attention. He’d proven himself to Paige, Aida, and Elizabeth so that they no longer watched his every move, yet hadn’t made up with the rest of the staff enough for them to spare him a glance or a ‘hello’ as he passed. All things in due time, Harry told himself and, besides, it was working in his favor at the moment.

Louis had pushed his tray with the bowl of soup away from him, so Harry picked up the bowl, replaced it with the cupcake, and moved the tray in front of the patient again. For a moment, Louis simply looked at it, then he glanced back up at Harry.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“A cupcake.”

“I know that. Where did it come from?”

“The Christmas party I was at last night. My friend Niall made them and he’s a very clean person, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Satisfied enough with that answer, Louis picked up the pastry and took a big bite. Niall tended to go overboard on icing, which was his favorite part of cakes of all kinds, and some green smeared on the tip of Louis’s nose. Harry giggled, handing him a napkin that he’d set on his nightstand when he first brought the soup. Louis wiped the icing, but some color still stained the skin, and Harry laughed again.

“Oh dear, we may be busted,” he said light-heartedly.

“I guess you’re going to have to make sure it’s you who comes to check on me for the rest of the night, then,” Louis said, smiling a little as well.

“Does it taste alright?” Harry asked.

“Mhm,” Louis murmured as he nodded, having taken another bite.

“Not sour?”

Louis shook his head and then took a drink of his water after he’d swallowed. Harry felt maybe a little too happy over Louis’s approval of the cupcake.

“Good,” he said. “Is there anything else you need right now?”

“No. I’m good. Thank you, Harry.”

“You’re welcome. Get some rest.”

“Nah, I thought I might sneak off to a party; have some tequila shots.”

Harry made a show of gagging at the reminder of what had helped him to get so drunk last night, and Louis giggled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. It was basically the cutest thing Harry had seen in his life, and feelings he did not want to acknowledge started to form.

“Page if you need anything,” Harry said to Louis.

“Always do,” the other replied.

Louis was asleep when Harry went in to remove the IV that had been dripping medicine into his system. He didn’t wake as Harry carefully removed the tube from his arm. The heart monitor read Louis’s temperature at 99.3, so at least it was going down. Louis would be happy to hear that when he woke.

By the time dinner was being served, Louis had woken up with a normal temperature and, ecstatic, he even ate a little bit of his food.

Before leaving for the night, Harry popped back into Louis’s room, even though he hadn’t paged. He was still in bed, but awake, writing in a notebook, and smiled when he saw Harry.

“Still normal,” he announced, pointing to the heart monitor that showed his temperature staying at a perfect 98.6.

“That’s great,” Harry said, smiling right back at him. “I just came to say goodbye. I’m off tomorrow and if you’re temperature remains as it is, you may get to go home.”

“I hope so,” Louis said, and then, “but I’ll see you around; May at the latest.”

“For your stem cell transplant?”

“Yeah. My sister is my donor so, luckily, I won’t have to wait to get a match off the list or anything.”

“That is really good,” Harry agreed. “Well…good luck during the remainder of your school year. Try to stay healthy with all those germy kids surrounding you.”

Louis laughed.

“They’re teenagers, so it’s not quite as bad as it could be.”

“The teenagers I’ve come into contact with in my life haven’t been the cleanest individuals,” Harry debated.

“Yeah, but they at least know how to cough and sneeze into their elbows.”

“Fair point,” Harry said. “Just, still…be careful.”

“I will,” Louis said, a genuine smile on his face. Perhaps he was dreaming of the day when he got to go back to his career and pretend, for a few months, that everything was as normal as could be. “I’ll see you around, Harry, and I hope you’re still the same optimistic, good-natured soul come May.”

Though it wasn’t logical, Louis thought he felt the tiniest amount of disappointment when he was released the next day. This was what he’d been waiting for. He desperately longed to wake up in his own bed, eat something for breakfast that actually had flavor, and drink his morning tea without being distracted by the beep of heart monitors and frantic voices trying to remain calm as they came over the intercom announcing various ‘codes’ and requesting assistance with tasks that made Louis sick to think about. He knew, rationally, that seeing his new favorite nurse one last time-no matter how attractive he was-wasn’t worth even another minute in that facility, but still, he did wish he could have seen Harry again before he left to ensure his face was ingrained into his brain. But, alas, Louis was sent home the day after his fever struck-on Harry’s day off-and he was excited overall.

As she always did, Louis’s sister, Lottie-who was a few years younger than him but the oldest of the girls-tried to convince Louis to stay with her or at least for him to let her remain at his house for a few days. Politely, Louis declined. He loved his sister, but he knew if he were to stay with her or vice versa, she would be focused on taking care of him and checking on him at a rate that would put the staff at the hospital to shame. After leaving the hospital, Louis craved privacy and, besides, he felt helpless enough as a patient, when the doctors and nurses were being paid to care for him. There was no way he could feel alright with himself if he let his sister do the same thing, for free.

Still, Lottie lingered for a while after dropping Louis off at his house. She insisted on ordering Louis’s favorite pizza from his most beloved pizza place, and Louis humored her by eating a whole slice and half a breadstick even though his stomach had started to hurt after only a few bites. Finally, upon cleaning up and checking that his temperature was still at a normal reading, Lottie reluctantly allowed herself to leave. Louis gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, but his love and admiration for her did not stop him from doing a quiet cheer as he watched her get into her car and drive away.

Though he’d done more than his fair share of sleeping while hospitalized, Louis laid down in his bed-had it always felt as if his mattress were made of clouds?-and took a nap, if a four-hour snooze could be called a ‘nap.’ He felt much better than he had in weeks when he woke up, though knew it would be short-lived. Still, Louis didn’t let that bring him down, and he warmed up a couple slices of the pizza from earlier and ate them like his life depended on it. Afterwards, he lounged on his couch, watching crappy American reality TV on his flat screen before he decided to take a nice, long, hot shower and go to sleep again.

Louis knew his fellow co-workers as well as the students would find him borderline crazy, but he was counting down the days until the holiday break was over and he was able to go back to school. Therefore, when that day finally came, he woke before his alarm and found that he was too excited to go back to sleep. As he stood, he was pleased to find that he wasn’t dizzy, as he often was in the mornings. There was no blood on his pillow from a middle-of-the-night nosebleed, nor had anymore of his hair fallen out during his sleep. Louis sang in the shower for the first time in months, cooked himself a healthy breakfast of scrambled eggs and whole-wheat toast, and wrote in his journal until it was time to go.

His students weren’t happy to be back at school, but they were ecstatic to see Louis, who they hadn’t expected back for the remainder of the year. Though it may have been breaking some code of ethics, as well as putting his health in danger, Louis wasn’t going to stop the students who wanted to come over and give him a hug because he was even happier to see them than they were him.

Louis loved his job, not only because it added a sense of normalcy in his life, but because he truly enjoyed what he did. The field of psychology had always fascinated him, though he knew he didn’t want to be a counselor or psychiatrist. Never one to have much self-esteem, Louis didn’t want someone’s life to be in his hands. That was part of the reason why, even when he was miserable, frustrated, and borderline depressed at the hospital, he made sure to never take it out on the doctors or nurses who were treating him, knowing that he would never, in any lifetime, want to do their job.

Teaching, though, was something Louis could do, and he even felt he was good at it. In the least, he’d rarely met a student who didn’t like or trust him, which couldn’t be said for many other faculty members, and that meant more to Louis than it probably should have.

Louis’s days out of the hospital usually went the same way; just as that day had. On weekends, he would go out with his sisters or, if he wasn’t feeling well, have a movie day with them at his house. This life was simple, but Louis loved it. It was only on occasion that he would feel lonely and it was in those moments that Louis thought of Harry. He wondered if, had they met under different circumstances, Harry would sometimes think of him, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Just a couple of days after Louis was discharged from the hospital, another man took his bed. He was middle aged and much grumpier, so even though Harry was happy for the patient who he’d grown quite fond of in just a short amount of time, the selfish part of him missed Louis. Or, rather, he missed walking into the room and seeing a smiling face; wished the patient was someone he could joke around with. But, of course, Harry treated this new man, however unpleasant he was to work with, respectfully, because he hadn’t gotten into this job to have fun and admire severely ill gay men. He’d started working as a nurse to care for people and to try to add even a little positivity into their lives. That was what he strived to do, even if he didn’t succeed with everyone.

Soon enough, Harry all but forgot about Louis. Occasionally the other man would pop into his mind and Harry would wonder how he was doing, but it would happen no more often than it did with every other patient who was discharged under Harry’s care.

The holidays came and went, as did Zayn’s birthday. Niall had been hopeful that he could convince their reclusive friend to go out and celebrate, without any luck. Zayn did, however, invite Harry and Niall over for a movie night, though Harry quickly formed the impression that he’d only done so to appease the other two. Zayn let his friends choose the movie and they decided on a comedy, knowing they all needed some more humor in their lives. During the film, Harry and Niall sipped on a glass of wine while Zayn nursed an entire bottle. His eyes soon glazed over, and he laughed at the jokes a bit too late; only after Harry and Niall started up. At the end, he’d hugged them and told them he had a great time, but Harry didn’t believe him and, he discovered, neither did Niall.

“He was doing so well at my Christmas party,” Niall told Harry in a quiet voice as the two stood by Harry’s car, getting ready to part ways for the night.

“I know,” Harry said, “but grief is like that. Sometimes it’s muted and sometimes it’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Niall agreed with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets and shivering against the cold, but not seeming in any hurry to get into his car. “It’s just…part of me feels like we lost Zayn too.”

“We’ll get him back,” Harry said hopefully. “He might not ever be the exact same…I don’t think any of us will, but there will be light behind his eyes more often than not at some point.”

“I hope so,” Niall said.

“He’s doing better,” Harry pointed out. “Until your party, he’d go weeks without even sending us a simple text, and now we’ve seen him twice in less than a month’s time. He’ll get there. We’ve just got to keep supporting him.”

“I’m planning on it,” Niall said, giving Harry a half-witted smile. After that, he changed the topic to the movie they’d watched, and the friends relived some of their favorite moments before saying goodbye for the night. Harry tried to keep his focus on the film, replaying the parts he and Niall had just been laughing about in his mind, but it was impossible to keep the vacant look in Zayn’s eyes out of his head.

Grief comes in waves, as Harry had been saying to Niall, but it had been a while since Harry had felt anger. It had been a long time since he’d had to lay the picture on his nightstand on its face to get some sleep.

The next morning, Harry was surprised when he woke to a group text with Niall and Zayn. He was even more shocked to see that Zayn was the one who had started it, saying,

_Morning! Sorry I was a bit of a party pooper yesterday. I wasn’t feeling the best. Harry’s birthday is next, so let’s start planning!_

Niall had already replied, and he said,

_You weren’t a party pooper, mate! We had a great time! Hm…I dunno…What do you want to do for your birthday, Haz?_

The pair had waited a few minutes for Harry to reply, but as it was his off day, he’d been sleeping in, and he laughed as he read the conversation his friends had without him.

_Wow, I see how it is,_ Zayn had said. _He just came over yesterday to drink my wine and now he’s too good for us._

_Loser,_ Niall had said. _He doesn’t deserve a birthday party._

_Nope!_ Zayn said, but when Harry still didn’t reply after a few minutes, Zayn texted again.

_We haven’t been to Two Brewers in a while. Maybe we should go there. I know how much Harry loves it!_

“Oh god,” Harry said out loud as he read that part of the message. Two Brewers was a gay bar that turned into a nightclub full of drag shows and loud pop music on the weekends. He and his group of friends had frequented it in the past, but after Harry had humiliated himself by getting so drunk that he sloppily made out with a drag queen in the toilets before getting sick all over her, he’d insisted they stop going. Fondly, he remembered how he’d cried in the backseat of Zayn’s car all the way home with Liam rubbing his back and assuring him that if the drag queen was put off by a bit of vomit then she wasn’t the one for him anyway.

_Hahaha, he’ll especially love it if Selena is there!_ Niall said. Selena was, of course, the name of the drag queen whom Harry had fallen in love with for a night.

_And I’m sure Selena will be so excited to see him too,_ Zayn said, and Niall replied with all the vomiting gifs he seemed able to find. Zayn sent back a crying-with-laughter emoji and said,

_It’s a plan, then._

The last exchange was from Niall sending a thumbs up, and though the conversation had ceased two hours ago, Harry took his turn to reply.

_You are both terrible friends and I hate you,_ he said.

_Love you too, Haz!_ Zayn said, sending the blowing-a-kiss emoji along with the message. Niall, on the other hand, replied with the middle finger emoji.

After that, neither Niall nor Harry heard from Zayn until January 30th, two days before Harry’s birthday.

_Are we still going out on Saturday?_ He asked, sending a group chat again.

_Yep!_ Niall answered before Harry could reply. _Do you all want to meet at my place and we can get a Lyft from here? Then you two can crash here afterward if you need to._

_Sounds good,_ Zayn said, and Harry sent his confirmation.

On Saturday, Harry arrived at Niall’s house precisely at eight; the time Niall had told them to be there the previous day. He’d ordered a couple of pizzas and bought enough wine and liquor to last them a week to ‘pre-party.’

“You definitely want to make sure you have some food in your system,” Niall told Harry with an ornery smirk. Though he couldn’t help but to grin, at least a little, Harry said,

“Okay, anymore vomit jokes and I’m leaving.”

Niall cackled, but helped himself to a slice of pizza and nodded for Harry to do the same.

Zayn showed up late, and at first the pair of friends feared that he would back out, but he arrived twenty after eight with apologies and a cake.

“Doniya wanted to take me shopping,” Zayn said of his sister as Harry and Niall admired the cake. “It’s been years since I’ve bought new clothes and she said I couldn’t go out in the same three outfits I’d been wearing.”

“A wise woman,” Niall noted. “Pizza?”

“I’ll take a slice. Has Harry eaten? We know how he gets drinking on an empty stomach.” 

“I’m out,” Harry said, pretending to gather his things as Niall cackled yet again.

The men called for a Lyft at quarter after nine, wanting to get to the club early so that they wouldn’t have to wait in line too long. Due to the tiara that Niall had purchased for Harry and insisted he wear, as well as the fact that the bouncer seemed to have a thing for Zayn, they ended up not having to wait at all, and the three made a beeline for the bar as soon as they entered, feeling in luck that they didn’t have to wait in line even for a drink, despite the fact that all of them had already ingested a fair few at Niall’s house.

“That bouncer was seriously checking you out,” Niall informed Zayn after they’d all received their beverages and walked out to the dance floor.

“Was he?” Zayn asked, trying to feign obliviousness.

“Yeah,” Niall said, deciding not to call their friend out. “He was pretty cute, too.”

Though Niall considered himself ‘straight,’ he was also open about the fact that ‘he could tell a good-looking person when he sees one,’ and Harry was always appreciative that he was so supportive of his and Liam’s sexualities. Harry and Liam met Niall only a couple years into their friendship, when both were still too young to have a grasp of what sexuality was yet, and so when they realized that they were gay and came out, Niall didn’t even blink an eye. He didn’t need time to convince himself that it was alright, like Liam’s parents had, and he didn’t have to try overly hard to prove to Harry that he still loved him, like his own parents. Another thing that Harry was grateful to Niall for was him not pestering his two other friends to date. Unlike most people, Niall understood that, just as straight people weren’t attracted to everyone of the opposite sex, gay people weren’t attracted to everyone of the same sex. Harry could appreciate that Liam was attractive, but they’d been like brothers for so long that the knowledge of that never developed into anything remotely sexual or romantic.

“I didn’t notice,” Zayn said of the bartender, and Niall and Harry exchanged glances behind each other’s backs. It would do nothing except upset Zayn, they knew, if they told him that Liam would want him to move on and find someone else; that he was too young to spend the rest of his life alone, so they didn’t verbalize the words that they signaled to each other through their gazes.

Due to the amount of alcohol they’d already consumed, it only took one drink for Zayn to start dancing, and Niall and Harry joined him. The three received several looks, as they usually did, from people wondering whether they were in a polyamorous relationship and whether there was room for another. Others seemed to know that the trio were just friends and every now and then, a man would come up and ask one of them to dance. All agreed-and Niall even let out a loud ‘whoop’ when Zayn, pink cheeked, took his requestor’s hand without a word and went off with him-but they never strayed for longer than one song at a time. That was, until Niall was three drinks and two shots deep and saw a lady he wanted to ‘shoot his shot’ with and headed off after verifying with his friends that he looked alright. Zayn and Harry watched him go and smiled when the young woman, who had started playing with the bottom of her hair as soon as Niall approached, accepted his offer for a drink, and then Zayn put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, smiling and tilting his head.

“What?” Harry asked, having to speak up over the pulsating music.

“Nothing,” Zayn said. “I’m just glad we can still be friends, even if I don’t come around very often.”

“Of course we’re still friends. We’ll always be friends,” Harry assured him.

“Everything else may have changed but I guess that never will,” Zayn said.

“Exactly,” Harry told him. For a moment, it looked as if Zayn’s eyes moistened, but with a blink, any sign of tears was gone and his smile grew for a moment.

“I’ve got to pee,” he announced.

“Want me to go with you?” Harry asked, but Zayn shook his head.

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Okay,” Harry said, but Zayn had already turned and probably didn’t hear him. Harry sipped his drink, awkwardly looking around. He didn’t want to dance by himself, but he also didn’t want to go to the bar and distract Niall from his flirting. Luckily, it didn’t take long for someone to approach Harry, and he turned when he felt them tap him on the shoulder. When he saw who was requesting his attention, he damn near dropped his drink.

“I thought it was you,” Louis said, smiling when he realized he hadn’t tapped some random bloke on the shoulder. “What’s up? You look good in normal clothes.”

Though Harry wasn’t on the professional level of flirting, as Niall was, he still liked to believe he was good at romancing others. However, he had to question that when the only words his mouth seemed to be able to form were,

“Nothing. Yeah. Thanks. I mean, you too.”

Louis smiled again, not seeming to notice, or at least care, that Harry had turned into a babbling idiot before his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said. “So…you got ditched, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry said and then, as the shock of seeing Louis outside of the hospital started to fade and his brain began half working again, he added, “My one mate went to talk to a woman and my other mate went to the toilets.”

“Ah. I suspect he’ll be back soon, then.”

“Yeah,” Harry said yet again, but then, not wanting Louis to walk away yet, he asked, “So who are you here with?”

His throat suddenly dry, Harry took a sip of his drink as Louis replied.

“My sister, but she’s currently being hit on by your mate.”

Harry’s eyes nearly bulged from his skull as Louis pointed to where his sister was. Sure enough, it was Niall sitting next to her, doing his best to charm the skirt right off her.

“Oh dear god,” Harry said quietly, but somehow, Louis still heard and he laughed.

“It’s alright. She needs this. Besides, your mate _is_ pretty cute.”

“He’s a good guy,” Harry tried to assure Louis, who didn’t look bothered.

“My sister’s a big girl,” he said.

“You’re a chill brother,” Harry told him. Louis shrugged.

“She’ll have to take care of herself when I’m gone. I realized I can’t baby her forever, even if it is in my big brother instincts.”

Louis saved Harry from having to come up with a reply to that and said,

“Do you have any siblings?”

“An older sister,” Harry answered.

“Aw, you’re the baby of the family,” Louis said.

“Yep,” Harry confirmed. His mind was turning, trying to find something else to say, but Louis beat him to the punch.

“So the other guy you’re with; is that your boyfriend?”

“No,” Harry answered quickly, his heart leaping to his throat. Why would Louis want to know that unless he was interested? Of course, he realized, with his heart falling just as fast as it had gotten its hopes up, he could be asking because he was interested in Zayn.

With nothing else to say, Harry added,

“We’re just…just friends.”

“Do you like him?”

“No! No, no. No.”

“Okay,” Louis answered with a laugh. “Jeez, you don’t have to be so hard on the guy.”

“It’s not like that,” Harry said, and the alcohol must have really been starting to kick in because it was suddenly extremely hot in there. “He was dating my best friend.”

“Oh,” Louis said. He was probably wondering why Harry was still hanging out with him if he had-past tense-been dating his ‘best friend,’ so Harry decided to clarify.

“He died.”

“Who? What-”

“My best friend.”

His eyes growing wide, Louis said,

“Oh. I’m…so sorry.”

“It was a few years ago,” Harry told him, and so Louis wouldn’t feel like he had to apologize again when it wasn’t his fault and there was nothing anyone could do to fix the situation, he continued, “Just…um…please don’t mention it in front of Zayn. My-my friend. His boyfriend. He’s still, um…a little sensitive about it.”

“Of course.”

Behind Louis, Harry could see Niall and his friend-Louis’s sister, apparently-approaching, both looking suspiciously at the other two.

“What’s up?” Niall asked once they were in earshot, and Louis turned.

“Oh, hey, Lottie! And…?”

“Niall,” Harry’s friend said, offering a hand to Louis, who shook it.

“And Lottie, this is Nurse Harry,” Louis said to his sister, gesturing politely to Harry, who shook the woman’s hand, trying hard to keep the smile on his face from growing clownish when Lottie replied,

“Oh hello, Nurse Harry! I’ve heard about you but never had the chance to meet you whenever I would visit Louis, here. I’m assuming you just go by Harry when you’re not at work?”

“You would assume correctly,” Harry told her, leaving Niall looking confused at the exchange. Of course, it wasn’t Harry’s business to explain how Lottie had heard of him, but Louis took it upon himself to clear the situation up.

“I was a patient at the hospital where Harry works,” he explained to the other. “I must say I like seeing him here a lot more.”

Harry felt the same, though he didn’t say so. Even though Louis was still a bit too thin to appear healthy, it looked as though he’d applied light foundation and a bronzer to bring color to his face. He was still wearing his typical beanie, but the hair peeking out from underneath it looked healthy enough with the club lights.

“I’m so sorry that guy was your nurse. I hope the damage wasn’t permanent,” Niall teased, and Harry rolled his eyes. Louis laughed, but before anyone could say anything else, Niall asked,

“Where’s Zayn?”

“He went to the bathroom,” Harry said. “I should probably go check on him. He should have been back by now.”

“I’ll pop in and make sure he didn’t drown, either in the toilet or his own tears. Be right back,” Niall said, smiling at Lottie as he turned and headed for the men’s bathroom. The woman looked confused, but, as Harry had already blabbed about Liam to Louis, he didn’t appear to find Niall’s comment strange.

“If he comes back before me, will you tell me I went to the bar to get us more drinks?” Lottie asked the pair as she decided not to fret over what Niall had said.

“Sure,” Harry agreed. She thanked him, patted Louis’s arm, and went on her way, leaving Harry and Louis alone again.

“How have you been doing?” Harry asked, trying to keep any hint of nurse-ish worry from his voice.

“A lot better,” Louis said. “Every day is different, of course, but I’ve had more good days than bad recently.”

“That’s great,” Harry said with a smile.

The crowd grew thicker, forcing Harry and Louis closer. Louis, Harry saw, was smiling almost as widely as him, but he adjusted his beanie and then asked,

“Do you want a drink?”

Was it ethical to accept a drink from a patient? Technically, Louis was discharged from the hospital. He would be back in the springtime but, of course, they wouldn’t be able to go out and get drinks then. Besides, a drink didn’t mean anything. He’d been having drinks with Niall and Zayn, whom he was not currently thinking about undressing, so accepting a drink from Louis was simply the nice thing to do, right?

“Harry?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, allowing Louis to lead him to the bar, though they stayed on the opposite side as Lottie, knowing that when Niall returned, they would likely want their privacy again.

Only a minute later, Harry saw Niall and Zayn break through the crowd and while Niall spotted Lottie and approached her again, Zayn came around the other side to where Harry and Louis were.

“Got lost,” he explained, his words slurring together more than when he had left Harry.

“I see,” Harry said, and then moved back to allow Zayn a good look at Louis. He introduced them, and Louis asked the bartender to add one more drink to his order. The three clinked glasses upon receiving them (Harry kept his mouth shut about how Louis really shouldn’t be drinking) and sipped their cocktails, Zayn downing the most out of all of them.

“Thanks for this,” Zayn shouted across the bar to Louis, nodding to his beverage. “Next one’s on me.”

“It’s no problem,” Louis assured him.

A couple minutes later, Harry felt his phone vibrate, so while Louis was making a joke to the guy standing next to him, he checked the message and frowned, confused, when he saw it was from Zayn.

_He’s cute!_ The message read, and Harry raised an eyebrow. When he looked at Zayn, his friend smiled innocently and Harry typed back,

_Want me to leave you two alone?_

Sure, Harry wanted Louis for himself, but it probably _was_ wrong, ethically, and if Zayn was finally showing interest in dating-or at least seeking pleasure with someone that wasn’t his hand-he wasn’t going to get in the way, no matter who the other person was. (Unless, of course, Harry suspected them of being a serial killer or something of the sort.)

Harry kept his eyes on his phone, waiting for Zayn’s reply, and was startled when he got smacked ‘round the head.

“Ow!” he yelled out, even though it hadn’t necessarily hurt. Louis looked towards him and seemed about to ask him if he was alright before the guy next to him poked him in the side, asking for his attention again. Zayn, however, was back to typing furiously on his phone.

_Not for me, for you!_ He said. Harry was trying to figure out what to reply with when he received another text, this one from Louis. What was with his friends texting him while he was sitting right between them?

Harry opened the message.

“Save me.”

Looking over at the other man, he saw that the guy he had been laughing with a moment ago was now uncomfortably close to Louis and looking at him as if he wanted to eat him alive. His head spinning at what he was about to do, Harry hopped off his stool and put an arm around Louis from behind, leaning down to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“You about ready to go back to the dance floor, babe?” he asked, loud enough for the predator to hear and, sure enough, he backed up so quickly that he stepped on the foot of the person behind him.

“That’s your boyfriend?” the man asked Louis, who replied cheerfully.

“Yes! This is Harry, and Harry this is…Actually, I didn’t get a name.”

The man mumbled something that Harry thought to be along the lines of ‘it doesn’t matter’ and sulked away. After a few moments, Harry stood up, smiling down at Louis who was grinning at him.

“Thanks,” Louis said.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied, resisting the urge to ask him what cologne he was wearing.

“I forgot to ask you; what’s that for?” Louis asked, touching the tiara on Harry’s head gently, so as not to knock it off.

“Oh, Niall bought it for me and insisted I wear it,” Harry said, feeling his cheeks turning hot.

“Is it your birthday or something?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, my birthday.”

“Happy birthday!” Louis said. “That deserves another drink. What do you want?”

“No, really, it’s okay-”

“I want to,” Louis said. “Unless you’re truly done drinking because I don’t want to be an alcohol pusher, but-”

“He’s not,” Zayn, who had scooted to Harry’s abandoned seat and was leaning over, listening to their conversation, interrupted. “Done drinking, that is.”

“Perfect!” Louis said. “You said you like wine and tequila, right?”

Louis didn’t wait for Harry to answer, showing that he remembered perfectly well what the other man had told him, and waved the bartender over. He ordered a round of tequila shots for the whole group, waving Niall and Lottie over to join. They took their shots, Lottie and Harry coughing, and Lottie slightly gagging, when they were done, but they quickly composed themselves and laughed along with the other three.

“I’ll be right back,” Lottie said after a moment. “Going to the restroom.”

“Gonna barf?” Louis teased. Niall and Zayn both gave Harry a devious smile, but he glared, hoping to convey that if they mentioned what he knew they wanted to, they would both lose a limb that night.

“No,” Lottie said with a small laugh. “Just have to pee.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Louis said. “I’ve got to piss too.”

The siblings told the others that they would be back and ventured off to the toilets. Harry was about to round on Niall and question him about Lottie, but both he and Zayn beat him to the punch.

“Louis seems to really like you and, more importantly, you seem pretty smitten with Louis,” Niall said wisely. Harry rolled his eyes and took a drink from the cocktail Louis had ordered him along with the shot.

“I can’t date a patient, Niall,” Harry said.

“A patient?” Zayn asked, and Harry remembered that he hadn’t been present for the explanation of how he knew Louis. Zayn, it seemed, thought Louis was some random man that had decided to hang out with them at the club, though he had been okay with that.

“Oh,” Zayn said after Harry had explained the situation. He looked a bit crestfallen and Harry wished he hadn’t said anything. “Yeah, maybe you don’t want to get involved, then…”

Zayn ordered another drink and Harry and Niall exchanged meaningful looks. Then Niall continued as if the conversation had never been diverted.

“You could at least have a good time together, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Niall, I know what you mean.”

The music stopped, and the dj came on, likely to announce the beginning of the drag show, but before he could say much, a bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the building. Goosebumps rose on Harry’s arms and he just knew. Before the woman had even started calling for help, Harry had set down his drink and began making his way to the bathroom. Niall was hurrying behind him.

“Help! Please! Someone call the ambulance! Someone help! I can’t find my phone! Help!”

Harry was sure there were people that he was rudely pushing through, but he didn’t notice them; hyper-fixated on the screams.

“Help! Call an ambulance!”

“I’m on it,” Niall assured Lottie once they’d finally reached her. He handed the woman her phone, which he’d been watching while she went to the bathroom, but was calling an ambulance on his own mobile.

“Harry!” Lottie cried. “Help!”

Lottie was putting too much faith in his abilities, Harry thought, as he was only a nurse and not a doctor, but he knelt next to Louis, who was on the ground, shaking uncontrollably and making choking noises. His eyes were wide and panicked, though there was an emptiness in them that was enough to give Harry chills again.

“Has he ever had a seizure before?” Harry asked the woman as he quickly but gently rolled Louis onto one side and rubbed his arm comfortingly. He tried to picture the man’s medical chart in his head, but he didn’t remember seeing anything about a history of seizures, which made sense when Lottie said,

“No! Never!”

“How’s his coloring?” Niall asked, likely cued by the emergency department on the phone.

“A bit pale, but fine,” Harry replied, keeping his voice calm despite the fact that his heart was hammering.

“Oh my god, why is this happening?!” Lottie asked, her voice shrill as tears streaked her face. She was gripping Niall’s arm so tight that Harry was sure he would have nail marks and possibly a bruise or two later, but the other didn’t seem to mind.

“Lottie, I know this is scary, but stay as calm as possible,” Harry asked of the woman softly. “He can most likely still hear you and it will help him to stay calm while he rides this out if we don’t lose it.”

Looking back at Louis, who was twitching and moaning by Harry, the nurse started playing with his thin hair, exposed now that his beanie had fallen off, and speaking as calmly as he could.

“You’re going to be okay, Lou,” he said. “This is almost over. You’re going to be fine.”

About a minute later, Louis grew still. Lottie screamed, but Harry shushed her calmly.

“He’s okay,” he assured her. “He’s breathing. It’s fine.”

“Louis!” Lottie cried, letting go of Niall and crashing onto her knees beside her brother, who attempted to roll his eyes up to look at her, but was struggling to keep them open.

“I’m…okay,” he tried to assure her, but then lost consciousness. Niall held Lottie’s hand, while she held Louis’s with her other, and Harry kept the man in his arms until, finally, the ambulance arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unexpected hiatus! This chapter is a little longer in my attempt to make up for it.

_“_ _We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of the talented, funny, gorgeous, smart, respectable, Liam James Payne-”_

_“Funny? Yeah right,” Niall scoffed._

_“And those things he did to me in bed last week weren’t exactly respectable,” Zayn said. “Enjoyable, yes, but respectable?”_

_“Quiet in the back!”_

_Niall and Zayn giggled and Harry grinned. Liam, too, was smiling from where he stood in the middle of the room, holding a hairbrush in front of him and pretending it was a microphone._

_“I can’t believe you dare talk of the deceased that way!” Liam scolded, changing his expression to one of faux anger after a moment. “God will most certainly punish you.”_

_“Your God or mine?” Zayn asked._

_“All Gods,” Liam answered._

_“What if there is no God?” Niall questioned._

_“Then you both should feel most lucky.”_

_“Well, maybe this is why people shouldn’t throw funerals for themselves, Liam.”_

_“Liam is gone, though his soul remains here in spirit.”_

_Niall rolled his eyes, determining that he wasn’t going to succeed in breaking Liam’s characterization. Liam had gotten the idea of having a funeral pre-death from a movie that Zayn had refused to watch with him, not that Harry could blame him. Liam’s way of facing the likelihood of soon passing on was to surround himself with death. It wasn’t as dark as it sounded, for Liam found comfort in realizing that he wasn’t alone; that others shared his pain as well as that of his friends and family. Zayn’s way of dealing with the possibility of losing his fiancé was to avoid the topic of death completely. As it was, he’d had to take a couple shots and smoke a fair amount of weed before agreeing to do this. Harry felt as if Liam’s actual funeral might be the same way, though without the snarky remarks of his friends._

_Bowing his head, Niall pretended to cross himself and said, “Father, forgive me.” Though he was smirking, Liam decided to pass the action as genuine._

_“You are forgiven,” Liam said. “Would anyone like to say a few words about the deceased?”_

_The energy coming from the two men beside of Harry changed in an instant. It was easy enough to poke fun at the event when Liam was talking in a falsely deep voice into a hairbrush microphone, pretending to be a preacher, but Harry knew none of them were ready to make speeches about their not-yet-dead best friend and fiancé._

_Starting to sense disappointment emitting from Liam, Harry awkwardly raised his hand._

_“I would,” he volunteered, and his friend beamed at him._

_“Ah, yes. Harry Styles. Liam thought most highly of you,” Liam said, handing Harry the ‘microphone’ as he approached. Harry wanted to laugh, but found that he could barely even manage the weakest of smiles. His fingertips were tingling, and he had to clear his throat before beginning his speech._

_“Liam’s been my best mate since we were in diapers. He is-was-everything the preacher said he was, and so much more. I could talk to him about anything. No matter what I was going through, he could make me feel better. I just wish when he’s-when he was-so sick that I could have done something-anything-to make him feel better too.”_

_Harry saw Zayn look down at his lap and bite his lip. After a moment, he reached inside the pocket of his hoodie and took a drink from a flask that Harry had no idea he’d had with him. Tears sprang to Harry’s eyes but he blinked them away, deciding to focus on Niall instead. Though his face was somber, he had not yet teared up. Harry knew it wasn’t from a lack of wanting to, but Niall was used to being the level-headed one that always kept the group from falling apart, even in the most devastating of circumstances; though, of course, losing Liam was going to be the worst thing Harry thought and hoped any of them would ever have to go through._

_Softly clearing his throat again, Harry continued._

_“I could go on about Liam for days. I could write a saga about the adventures we’ve had. It’s hard to pick a favorite memory so I’ll just go over a few of my favorites. I remember the first time Liam got drunk. We were fifteen and at a party with his then-boyfriend, who, of course, wasn’t as attractive or amazing as his fiancé Zayn, and Liam decided to take a few shots when I took a quick trip to the bathroom. He was a lightweight and soon he was falling over everywhere, and his boyfriend refused to drive us home at that point, afraid Liam would be sick in his car. So I walked home with his drunken arse suggesting we ‘camp out’ on the sidewalk because he was too tired and didn’t want to be murdered by his mum. Eventually, we got back to his house, and though I tried to cover for him, his mum knew what was going on and I thought she was going to kill us both. I remember being so pissed at him at the time, but when we laid down to go to sleep, he rolled over and thanked me; said I made his life worth living, and I couldn’t be angry anymore. Besides, he made up for it a couple years later when I drank a drugged beverage at a party and he protected me from anything worse happening.’_

_‘I remember Liam eating enough chocolate with me to almost make us sick that one Valentine’s Day when I got dumped. I remember comparing schedules throughout our school days and getting excited whenever we had a class together. I remember our first vacation together without our families-some of it anyway.”_

_Niall, Zayn, and Liam took a moment to chuckle a bit to themselves, Zayn wiping his running eyes. A ball formed in the back of Harry’s throat and his voice was far less strong when he spoke again._

_“And most of all, I just remember trusting Liam with my life and loving him with my whole heart. Though I wouldn’t wish what I’m feeling right now on my worst enemy, I wouldn’t give up all of these memories with my best friend for anything, unless it could have saved him. I was lucky to have him in my life and I know he’ll stay in my heart forever.”_

_Finally, a tear managed to escape and slid down Harry’s cheek and in that instant, Zayn launched himself at his friend. Harry stumbled backwards, but managed to catch him and prevent either of them from falling down as he held Zayn for a few moments before Liam, breaking character, touched his boyfriend’s shoulder and took him in his arms instead. Soon, Zayn broke away to go to the restroom and Liam hugged Harry, who got the other’s shirt a bit wet with his tears, but Liam didn’t seem to care. His eyes were shining, though he wasn’t actively crying yet._

_“Can I go next?” Niall asked. Harry thought it was getting harder for him to hold in his emotions and, probably, he wanted to get his speech over with before Zayn, as that would probably break them all down._

_“Sure,” Liam said, and Niall was just taking the hairbrush from Harry when Zayn returned. He sat close to Harry on the couch, their knees touching, and took another drink from his flask with fumbling fingers._

_“I didn’t know Liam as long as Harry did,” Niall began, “and I know they have a bond no one on Earth could ever imitate, but there’s no doubt that there was something special about Liam. I’ve never met someone so genuine; so caring. He was the first person to include me when I was the new kid in school, and I’m so glad he was. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I’d joined somebody else’s group. Liam helped me come to terms with my parents’ divorce. He helped my shy, awkward self become comfortable and eventually even confident in my own skin. He made sure I found my own interests and hobbies, instead of just trying to fit in, like I’d always done until I met him. Liam is so caring-”_

_Niall’s voice broke for the first time. Blinking rapidly, he gazed up at the ceiling for only a couple of moments before softly clearing his throat and continuing as if nothing had happened._

_“-and I’m going to carry the lessons he taught me about life, love, kindness, and acceptance with me for the rest of my life.”_

_Taking a subtle, but noticeable, breath, Niall glanced around at his three friends before holding the brush out to Liam._

_“Pastor?” he asked, and the three others laughed. Liam walked over to Niall and took the hairbrush._

_“Thank you, Mr. Horan,” he said warmly. “Liam would greatly appreciate those words, though, as usual, you aren’t giving yourself enough credit for the great person you are.”_

_Niall smiled sheepishly then scurried away to sit on the couch again._

_“Well, if no one else wants to speak-” Liam began, never wanting to put Zayn on the spot or guilt him into anything, but his fiancé spoke up._

_“I would like to say a few things,” he said, and Liam gave him a loving smile._

_“Of course, Mr. Malik, and can I just say that you are looking quite dashing today?”_

_“Whoa, pastor; my fiance’s ashes are still smoldering. Calm down.”_

_Liam laughed. It was slightly rare, these days, that he gave a genuine, whole-hearted laugh, but when he did, Zayn was usually the one who brought it out of him. Harry gave a shaky smile, not bothering to try and stop his tears anymore, but making sure that they fell silently._

_Zayn cleared his throat loudly, took a deep breath and a swig from his flask and then, finally, began to speak._

_“No words that I say could ever clearly explain how much I love my fiancé. I was looking forward to spending my whole life with him, raising kids one day after we finally settled down and aren’t cool enough to party anymore. I’m just a scrawny, nervous little guy but somehow, that beautiful, captivating creature named Liam James Payne fell in love with me anyway, and, fuck, I sure fell in love with him.’_

_‘Meeting Liam was the second best day of my life, only behind the day he asked me to marry him in a gallery full of artful masterpieces. I’d finally saved enough money to purchase my first piece of serious art and when I asked Liam to choose between my two favorites, he said it was hard to care about the paintings when the most beautiful piece of art was standing right in front of him.”_

_Zayn swallowed hard, his tears pouring fast again and Liam, Harry saw, had finally cracked as well, holding a fist tightly against his mouth as if he were trying to stop himself from screaming._

_“But it’s not just that Liam thought I was beautiful even on the days I felt the worst about myself,” Zayn continued, his voice deeper and more gruff than usual, but his words clear. “It’s that he believed in me. He made me feel safe and strong. He eased my worries and, believe me, I had a lot. But it’s also what he let me give to him. He surpassed my wildest fantasies from when I would dream about who my future partner would be. We were together six years and still would say please and thank you. Every day began with, ‘Good morning, I love you,’ and ended with ‘I love you, sleep tight.’ We never went to bed angry because we never were angry with each other; not really. Sure, there were things we disagreed on, like every couple, but we talked them out and compromised. I wish, more than anything, that I could have taken his place…”_

_The man paused again, having to take a few more deep breaths. Harry expected him to drink from his flask again, but he didn’t._

_“Losing him is hard-it’s terrible; seems almost impossible to get through, but watching him suffer was just as bad because there was nothing I could do for him.”_

_Zayn let out an audible cry, the hairbrush falling out of his shaking hands onto the floor, and Liam rushed toward him, holding him tight in his arms like he could squeeze all the hurt from his heart._

_“I love you,” Zayn said, his voice only a high-pitched whisper, and Liam kissed him, not caring that the other’s tears fell onto his face as he did so._

_“I love you,” Liam replied. He held his boyfriend for a few moments while Harry gave up trying to reel his tears in at all. Even Niall let a couple fall and then Liam let go of Zayn with one arm and motioned for his friends._

_“Come here. I love you chums too.”_

_Simultaneously, Harry and Niall stood, making their way to Zayn and Liam, who pulled them all in an embrace. Though Liam was holding all of them like he had been Zayn-as if he could keep them from falling apart-Harry felt quite the opposite occurring, wondering if this would be the last time there would be four of them together._

Zayn looked out the window of the cab, holding a fist to his mouth and crying softly on the way home. Even though he hadn’t known Louis for more than a few minutes, Harry understood. Not only were seizures quite scary to witness, but that’s how it had started with Liam; one single seizure. The doctors had told them not to worry, that it was probably an isolated incident. At the worst, they had been expecting Liam to receive a diagnosis of epilepsy which, although very serious, could typically be controlled given the proper treatment.

They surely hadn’t expected a cancerous, non-operable brain tumor.

Niall, being in the middle seat, put his hand on Zayn’s shoulder and didn’t take it off until he’d led him safely into the house. The alcohol seemed to be settling in for all but Harry, who thought his adrenaline was still running fast enough to prevent him from feeling the full effects. Zayn stumbled over Niall’s welcome mat, but managed not to fall, and Harry had to help Niall correctly insert his key into the lock on his front door.

With a small sob, Zayn laid down on Niall’s couch, tightly hugging a pillow and crying against the fabric,

“It’s not fair! I hate this!”

“I know,” Harry said, going into the kitchen and heating up a couple slices of pizza-one for each of his friends-and bringing them a cold glass of water while waiting for the microwave to finish its job. He had to tap Zayn’s hand to get him to notice, and he shook his head before burying his face into the pillow once again.

“You need to drink and eat something before you fall asleep, Z, or you’re going to wake up miserable,” Harry informed him. His friend didn’t reply; just kept crying. Holding in a sigh, Harry turned to Niall.

“Has Lottie said anything to you yet?”

“Not yet,” Niall said, the worry clear in his tone even though his voice was heavy.

“Shit,” Harry said to no one in particular and Niall replied,

“Yeah.”

The microwave beeped and Harry went to grab the two slices of pizza. Niall took his graciously, but Zayn hadn’t moved.

“Z?” Harry prodded. “Please; just a few sips and a couple bites?”

With a sigh, Zayn sat up and accepted the food and water Harry was offering.

“Thank you,” Harry said, his chest aching at the sight of his friend’s red, swollen eyes.

“He better be alright,” Zayn said quietly, though Harry didn’t know what they would be able to do if he wasn’t.

Cringing against the mental image of Louis lying limp and seizing on the dirty floor of the club, Harry rubbed his forehead and said,

“Is anybody going to need the toilet in the next few minutes? I want to wash up.”

Both men told him that they were fine for now, so Harry retrieved his overnight bag and made his way to Niall’s single bathroom where he brushed his teeth and did his nighttime skincare routine. He wasn’t meaning to take his merry old time, but he seemed incapable of moving very fast. When he looked up after rinsing the anti-wrinkle cream from his hands, he became just a bit dizzy. Maybe he was drunk after all.

There was a soft knock on the door, so Harry opened it.

“Hi,” Zayn whispered, trying to smile and having moderate success.

“Hi,” Harry replied quietly.

“I, um, guess I was wrong,” Zayn said. “I do need the toilet.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m basically done anyway,” Harry said, turning to gather his belongings before stepping out of the bathroom. Before Zayn closed the door, Harry asked,

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just gotta take a wee,” Zayn informed him. With a nod, Harry went back to the living room, where Niall was asleep sitting up, the plate with his half-eaten slice of pizza set precariously on his knee. Harry was about to take it from him when Niall’s phone buzzed on his lap, causing him to jump and the plate go tumbling to the ground.

“Ah, shite,” he sighed, but made no move to pick it up; instead looking at his phone.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized even though he hadn’t done anything.

“It’s alright,” Niall said as Harry picked up the pizza and the plate. “I still need to deep clean the carpet anyway. There’s still a red wine stain over there from where that lady sloshed it all over herself at my Christmas party.”

Harry barely heard him, as he was studying Niall’s face while the other read his message. Finally, after hearing a flush from the toilet, Niall said,

“He’s stable.”

Harry let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding and, embarrassingly, felt tears spring to his eyes. Luckily, he was able to quickly blink them away.

“Good,” he said. “Did she say anything else?”

“They’re doing a brain scan,” Niall said, lowering his voice and glancing at the bathroom door as if he didn’t want Zayn to hear. Most likely, that was exactly the case.

“Oh god, if it’s spread to his brain…,” Harry began, but trailed off, not sure where he was going with that train of thought.

“Let’s hope not,” Niall said, and grew silent as the bathroom door opened.

“Louis’s okay,” Niall told the other friend when he was within earshot.

“Good,” he said, settling himself into the recliner. “You can have the couch, Haz. Niall said he was going to get his sleeping bag for himself.”

“You can have the couch,” Harry offered.

“That’s okay. I don’t know how long it will be before I fall asleep. Thanks, though.”

Niall retrieved pillows and blankets for both of his friends before getting his sleeping bag and settling in.

“Night,” he said as Harry turned off the lights.

“‘Night,” Harry and Zayn said.

Despite questioning whether he would be able to fall asleep anytime soon, Harry could tell by his breathing pattern that Zayn drifted off before Harry had even been able to relax his body. Eventually, though, he was able to fall asleep. His slumber was fitful at first but, at last, the alcohol must have worked its magic because Harry was soon so far into dream land that Niall had to shake him hard and nearly shout his name to wake him up the next morning.

“Huh?” Harry snorted attractively, and Niall managed a slight smile.

“‘Morning, sleeping drooly,” he greeted, and Harry instinctively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Your phone keeps going off. Figured you might want to check and see if it’s important.”

Harry sat up quickly, his head giving a small throb as he did so. Something in his gut told him that the call was about Louis, though he doubted that when the room came fully into focus and he saw Lottie in the kitchen, eating a donut.

“Good morning!” she greeted.

“Hey!” Harry said, forgetting all about his ringing phone. “How is Louis? And how are you?”

“I reckon I’m slap happy,” Lottie said, and laughed. “I managed to sleep a couple hours at the hospital before Louis kicked me out. He seems fine. We don’t have his test results back yet, as there was no one there to read it last night, but we should be getting them sometime today. He’s back to the same old Louis, though; for better or worse.”

Harry laughed, more out of relief than anything. Lottie smiled and then said,

“I brought donuts and coffee.”

“Really? You’re amazing,” Harry said, his stomach growling at the thought of a nice, sugary, caffeine-loaded breakfast.

“No, _you’re_ amazing,” Lottie said as Harry headed to the kitchen for some food and coffee. “I didn’t thank you last night, but…thank you. If it weren’t for you…”

“It was no problem,” Harry said, turning red as he tended to do when complimented. “I’m sure he would have been fine, but I’m glad I could help.”

As he took his first bite of donut, Harry’s phone began to ring again and he jumped, suddenly remembering that somebody had been desperately trying to reach him. When he checked caller ID, he saw that it was the hospital and, suddenly, that single bite of donut was making him feel slightly sick.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hey, Harry!” Paige said. She sounded cheery enough, so Harry tried to relax. “Sorry that we’re calling you over and over and over, but we’re extremely short staffed today and wondered if you could work for a few hours?”

In his hungover state, Harry wanted to say no but, one, he was still fairly new at the job and turning them down the first time they called him in probably wouldn’t look good. Secondly, Louis was still at the hospital and if Harry went in, maybe he could be there when he was given his results. He could celebrate with him if the news was good and comfort him if not.

“Can you give me about an hour and a half?” Harry asked.

“Sure, that’s fine, just get here as soon as you can, please.”

Harry assured her he would, Paige thanked him, and then Harry explained to Niall, Lottie, and Zayn, who had just come from the shower and started sipping on a cup of coffee, that he had to leave.

“Tell Louis hi for us!” Niall said as Lottie packed Harry an extra donut and handed him a coffee for the road.

The first thing Harry wanted to do when he got to the hospital was, of course, go to see Louis, but unfortunately, he was given a list of other tasks to complete first, none of which involved seeing the other man. He didn’t let thoughts of Louis distract him from properly caring for his other patients, but as soon as he had a free moment, he popped into the room he’d caught a glimpse of Louis in earlier. Louis was sitting up in bed with his earphones in as he scrolled through his phone and, disappointed but not wanting to disturb him, Harry began to back out of the room. However, he’d only made a couple steps to the door when Louis asked,

“Leaving so soon?”

With a small smile, Harry turned back around. Louis’s earphones were now out and laying on the bed.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you from…whatever you’re listening to,” Harry explained, walking a bit closer to Louis as he spoke.

“It’s just a podcast. It will wait for me.”

“A podcast about what?” Harry questioned, stopping at the foot of Louis’s bed.

“A murder case.”

“Ah, so you’re a creep.”

“I majored in Psychology, Harry. What do you expect?”

Harry smiled again and Louis returned it. Changing the subject, Harry asked,

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine. My brain scans came back normal.”

“That’s great!”

Harry suddenly felt much lighter.

“Yeah,” Louis said. “My bloodwork came back normal too, so I guess I just had to shake things up last night, no pun intended.”

Harry rolled his eyes, sure that the pun was actually intended, but he couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that, but if you could kindly refrain from doing it again…”

“I’ll try my best.”

After a brief pause in which neither spoke, Louis said, his voice slightly softer than usual,

“Thanks for saving me last night, Harry.”

“I didn’t,” Harry said, burning hotter than when Lottie had thanked him earlier.

“Yeah, you did,” Louis said. “I was, obviously not okay, but I could still hear what was going on. I didn’t know until I heard you say the word ‘seizure’ what was happening, but I knew whatever it was wasn’t good. And I know damn well that my sister was standing there screaming while I flopped around choking on my tongue.”

“She was horrified and in shock,” Harry defended the woman.

“I know,” Louis said. “I’m not blaming her for anything, and even if you weren’t there and the worst happened, it still wouldn’t have been her fault. But I’m glad you were there and just…yeah. Thanks. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Harry assured him.

“Well, let’s pretend I do and let me take you to dinner once I’m out of here, yeah?”

When Harry didn’t immediately answer-mainly because his brain was refusing to believe what he just thought he heard-Louis continued,

“Not like…a date or anything like that.”

If Harry didn’t know better, he’d say Louis was now blushing too.

“I’m obviously in no position to date, but just…you know…as a thank you to a potential friend.”

“It’s really not necessary,” Harry said, “but, yes, dinner sounds great, once you’re out and feeling up to it.”

“Great,” Louis said with a wide smile. “They’re keeping me at least for tonight to continue monitoring me and to ensure I don’t have another seizure, but hopefully I’ll get out tomorrow.”

“Alright. We’ll compare schedules after that but there’s really no rush if you’re not feeling well…”

“Harry, I feel fine,” Louis assured him. “I may not be up for joining the Olympics, but I think I can take you to dinner.”

“Alright,” Harry said, smiling yet again.

“Oh, and Harry?”

“Yes?”

“As much fun as I had last night-you know, before I turned into a fish out of water-and as glad as I am to see you today, you really need to stop coming to work hungover.”

“I’m not hungover,” Harry claimed.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“So did you wear your top inside out and backwards in an attempt to start a new fashion trend?”

Looking down, Harry saw that his top was, indeed, both inside out and backwards, so after excusing himself, he went to the bathroom to fix it. After that, he was paged elsewhere, but made a note to say a proper goodbye to Louis before he left for the day; whenever that would be.

**_New message from: Zayn 3:03PM_**

_Bro, did I tell someone where I lived last night?_

_Not that I’m aware of, but you did disappear for a while when you said you were going to the toilets…why?_

_I just got flowers sent to my flat from ‘my secret admirer…’ Should I call the cops?_

Harry snorted out loud into his sandwich, which he’d graciously been given fifteen minutes to eat after Aida noticed that he looked ‘peck-ish.’ Harry was, perhaps, getting too old to be functional for the first twenty-four hours after drinking.

_I don’t think the cops are going to feel like a secret admirer is a threat until they deliver the flowers on dynamite or something. Relax. It’s probably that guy you work with._

_Jack?_

_Yeah._

_Nah. It’s not him._

_Did you ask him?_

_No…but it’s not him._

_Who else could it be?_

_Idk! That’s why it’s creepy!_

_I think it’s kind of exciting._

_Of course you would._

_What kind of flowers?_

Zayn sent him a picture of a romantic bouquet put together of roses, dahlias, and snowdrops. Suddenly Harry thought he knew why Zayn was having a mental crisis over something seemingly so innocent, even if his friend didn’t understand himself.

_They’re pretty,_ Harry said, trying not to think about going with Liam only a week after his diagnosis to sit with him while he got a tattoo of a rose with Zayn’s initials hidden in the petals. He also tried not to think about the hours he spent trying to come up with the perfect flower combination for the wedding Liam and Zayn never got to have and being unsure what was missing before Niall suggested adding snowdrops to the mixture because that particular flower meant home and he’d never seen a couple who could look so much at home with each other wherever they were.

_Yeah, but it’s still creepy_ , Zayn claimed.

_I_ t _’s Jack,_ Harry assured him again. _Just embrace the free gifts and attention, Zaynie. That’s usually your thing anyway, isn’t it?_

Zayn replied with the middle finger emoji and, with a small laugh, Harry said,

_Going back to work. Talk to you later._

However, as strong as Harry felt he was by managing to keep thoughts of Louis from disrupting his work, he saw part of Liam in all of the patients he saw for the rest of the day and broke down in his car on the way home for the first time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! :)

“I’m out of here.”

Harry looked up from the computer onto which he was updating his patient notes for the day and smiled when he saw Louis standing in front of the nurse’s station, sucking on a lollipop. The manner in which he was doing so would seem obnoxious coming from anyone else, but the sounds Louis was making as well as the hollow of his cheeks was quite distracting in the best possible way. It was so distracting, in fact, that Harry forgot he’d said something until Louis snapped his fingers in front of his face, startling him. Louis appeared amused.

“Are you hungover again, Styles?” he asked, keeping his voice low, though there wasn’t anyone around to hear at the moment.

“No,” Harry said. “Just…tired, I guess.”

Louis hummed non-committally, though doubt was written on his face and Harry momentarily wondered if the lollipop act was planned before realizing that was ridiculous.

“You’re out of here, then?” Harry said, his brain belatedly remembering what Louis had told him.

“Yep,” Louis answered and then, leaning forward and lowering his voice even more, he added, “How does dinner tomorrow sound?”

“It sounds great, but I work a twelve hour from ten to ten, unfortunately,” Harry told him, hoping Louis didn’t assume he was making excuses and drop the topic. Luckily, Louis seemed unbothered and said,

“Wednesday, then?”

“I’m off that day,” Harry informed the other.

“Off and up for dinner?”

“Yeah, can’t wait.”

“Aces. I’ll text you my address.”

“Do you have my phone number?”

“No, but I can get it from Lottie who can get it from Niall.”

“I guess that’s true,” Harry said, “but don’t you think it would be easier if I just gave it to you?”

Before Louis could answer, Lottie rounded the corner and joined Louis in front of the desk.

“Hey, Harry,” she greeted.

“Hi. How are you?”

“Fine, and you?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Good.”

Turning to her brother, she asked,

“You ready?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m having such a blast,” Louis answered sarcastically, but flung the bookbag full of his overnight items that Lottie had brought to him the previous day over his shoulder.

“See you, Harry.”

“Bye, Louis.”

Harry watched the two go, only going back to his work once Louis was out of sight. He tended to do that with everyone he cared about, never knowing when it could be the last time he would see them.

It would have been easy enough for Harry to find Louis’s address in the computer system, but he waited instead for the other to text him that night. When Harry replied, saying he saved both his address and phone number, Louis asked,

_Are you still at work?_

_No, just on my couch drinking wine,_ Harry told him. He regretted it after he’d sent it, hoping Louis wouldn’t start to think of him as an alcoholic, because he wasn’t. True, he had drunk more since starting this job than he probably had during his whole time at university (minus that one Halloween, of course), but that didn’t mean anything. Harry didn’t regret choosing this line of work, and he did enjoy it most of the time, but it was emotionally taxing, and if a glass or two of wine helped put him back in place at the end of the day, who was anyone to judge him?

_Just try to remember how to put your shirt on in the morning,_ Louis teased.

_Ha-ha_ , Harry replied sarcastically, though Louis’s text had put a smile on his face.

_I’ll let you enjoy your wine in peace. Have a good night,_ Louis said. Harry was about to tell him he didn’t have to stop texting him but realized the man was probably tired. Either way, if he wanted to keep texting Harry, he wouldn’t have said goodnight.

_You too_ , Harry replied, and then called Zayn.

“‘Lo?” the other man asked, sounding like he’d had a couple glasses of something himself.

“Hey, hold on, I’m going to three-way Niall,” Harry said. Zayn commented, 

“Oh boy, I feel like I’m a pre-teen again.”

Ignoring him, Harry stayed silent until Niall answered the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Lads,” Harry began, making sure his tone relayed how serious this matter was despite what he was about to say.

“Yes?” Zayn and Niall asked at the same time, Niall non-chalantly while Zayn sounded as if he thought Harry were losing his mind. Harry said,

“I need to get laid.”

Dramatically, Zayn choked on whatever he was drinking, but Niall, at least, gave Harry’s predicament the attention and respect it deserved.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, “but what made you come to this conclusion?”

“Louis,” he answered, always honest with his two best friends.

“I thought that might be the case,” Niall said. “Well, mate, I don’t think you’ll need our help accomplishing getting him in bed. He looked positively parched whenever he looked at you at the club.”

“That was probably some pre-seizure haze he was in,” Harry said, though the burning of his cheeks made him doubt whether he truly believed that. “Besides, I can’t have sex with Louis. He’s a patient.”

“Did Liam ever look like he wanted to bone you before a seizure, Zayn?” Niall asked. Harry answered for the other man.

“Liam looked like he wanted to bone Zayn ninety-nine percent of the time.”

Zayn gave a soft sigh of content and Niall said,

“Touché. And what does it matter if he’s a patient? You’re not his doctor.”

“The rule applies to nurses too,” Harry informed the other.

“Stupid,” he said. “Well, Hazza, luckily for you, I know how to make an award-winning Tinder profile. Of course, you’ll be using Grindr, but that’s basically the same thing, isn’t it, Z?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zayn replied.

“Well…want me to make you an account too while I’m at it?” Niall offered.

“Nah,” Zayn said.

“He doesn’t need one,” Harry pointed out. “Did you hear anything from your secret admirer today, Zayn?”

“Nope, not today. Maybe the flowers just got sent to the wrong address.”

“Maybe,” Harry admitted.

“So…it’s a yes for the Grindr?” Niall asked, presumably talking to Harry.

“I guess,” the nurse agreed hesitantly.

“Cool,” Niall said. “Give me a bit and then I’ll text you the login info.”

Without a goodbye, Niall hung up, apparently eager to get to work.

“Alright then,” Zayn said.

“How are you, Zayn?” Harry asked. “And I mean really.”

Hesitating for a moment, Zayn eventually replied, sounding more vulnerable than he had since the first couple of weeks after Liam’s passing.

“Time is supposed to make everything better, Harry, but I still miss him like Hell.”

“I know,” Harry admitted. “Me too.”

“I realize that you and Niall want me to get out there and date again. So does my family, but what’s the point? Liam was my soulmate, if there is such a thing, and anyone but him is just going to be a disappointment. I had six amazing years with the only man I have any desire to love. I wish we’d had decades more, but I feel lucky to have what I did. Some people never experience something like that, you know?”

“Yeah,” Harry said lamely, his cheeks suddenly wet.

“If you like Louis, I say go for it, Haz,” Zayn said next, quite shocking his best friend. Because of that, Harry didn’t know what to say. After only a moment, Zayn continued.

“I know it might not seem like Louis is in any position to date, and you’re his nurse, and there are so many obstacles that you feel to be standing in the way. But life is short and, in my opinion, pretty fucking pointless if you’re not going to do the things-or people-that make you happy. You’re a sap, Haz, and you deserve a story like the movies. Louis might be that for you, and he might not, but remember; there are no happy endings. Death always wins, and the biggest ‘fuck you’ we could give him is to be ready to go, knowing we truly lived while we had the chance.”

“What’s going to make you happy again, Z?”

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out, but this isn’t about me. You’ve not been happy for a while either, mate. You’ve been distracted, so get out there and make Liam proud by having the most mind-blowing sex you’ve had in your life.”

Harry snorted, his nose getting stuffed up as he tried not to let himself completely break down. He’d cried quite enough the past few days. Ever the gentleman, Zayn didn’t say a word about Harry’s unattractive snort and even gave a small giggle himself.

The friends disconnected their call shortly after and, about a half hour later, Niall texted Harry with the login information for his brand new Grindr page.

Niall had chosen a picture that Harry didn’t even know existed for his display photo. It was a side angle picture from Niall’s Christmas party last month. In it, Harry was smiling and holding a drink. Whoever he had been talking to was cropped out.

After Liam became sick, Niall had grown more sentimental, despite his ever calm-and-cool demeanor.; Whenever Niall was around, the boys could expect several candid photos of them to be taken, oftentimes without their knowledge. Harry returned the favor whenever it occurred to him to do so, ensuring that Niall would have some photos of himself with Liam to cherish if everything went wrong, but he didn’t have the same talent of sneaky photography as the other man did.

Niall had, apparently, remained sentimental with his remaining friends even though Liam had passed, and Harry wondered how many photos of himself he hadn’t seen.

After making his profile, Niall had taken the liberty of ‘swiping right’ for some men he apparently thought would be good for Harry. For a straight guy, Niall had pretty good taste in men, but Harry had suddenly lost the desire for a random hookup and logged off his page only minutes after.

_This is stupid,_ Louis thought to himself as he tried on his third outfit for the night. _This shirt is stupid, my hair is stupid, my eyebags are stupid, and this date is stupid._

Of course, it wasn’t like going to dinner with Harry was an actual date. He’d told the man as much. That, perhaps, made the whole ‘dinner thing’ even dumber. What was the point? For Louis to become even more attracted to Harry than he already was, knowing he’d never have anything with the man? Who would ever be attracted to a balding, pale, dry skinned, dull lipped, bag of bones? Even if, by some miracle, Louis recovered and gained his looks back, Harry wouldn’t want him. If he’d had cancer only once, maybe. Perhaps even if Louis had managed to beat the disease twice, his love life would prosper again one day, but three times? That was too much risk for anyone, and Louis understood. He couldn’t say with complete certainty that he would take that chance either, and Louis wasn’t exactly the type to play anything safe or live life in the lines.

_Send me a pic when you finally decide on an outfit!_ Lottie texted her brother, along with a slew of grinning emojis.a

_No,_ Louis replied, not wanting to waste his time reading his sister’s kind lies about how good he looked. She texted back, no doubt calling him several not-so-kind names and spewing empty threats but Louis didn’t read her message. There was no time. He wasn’t even close to being ready and Harry was due to arrive in thirty minutes.

_Stupid_ , Louis thought again. _You asked the guy to dinner and he has to come pick you up._

Louis tried not to wallow in self-pity, but today, it had been unavoidable. He’d even almost canceled on Harry, sure he wasn’t going to be much fun in this mood but, selfishly, he wanted to see what Harry looked like out of scrubs. Of course, he’d seen him out of scrubs at the club, but that night was a blur thanks to the alcohol and then the seizure, so Louis felt he needed the experience all over again. He had tried to stalk Harry on social media, but he seemed not to have an Instagram, and his Facebook was set to private. His display picture was a mere silhouette of himself. His silhouette was prettier than any silhouette deserved to be, but still.

Eventually, Louis was forced to settle on an outfit-a long sleeved, red button-up that wasn’t as tight as it used to be, but didn’t hang off him-and a pair of black skinnies. Technically, his pants were ‘jeggings,’ but they didn’t fit as such anymore. Louis wasn’t particularly thrilled with the choice, but if he kept fretting over his wardrobe, he wouldn’t have time to apply the makeup he used to look slightly more alive.

Less than five minutes after Louis emerged from the bathroom-he wasn’t any happier with his face than he was with his body, but there was only so much that could be done-Louis’s doorbell rang. As he rose from the couch, Louis became slightly dizzy, but he wasn’t too worried about it. More than likely, it was due to the fact that he’d only eaten a few peanuts that day so that he would maybe be able to actually eat at dinner.

“Oh, good, this is your place,” Harry said when Louis opened the door. “I thought it was, but after I rang the bell, I became nervous that I’d entered your address into my   
GPS wrong.”

No one, Louis thought, would have complained if Harry had accidentally and unexpectedly shown up on their doorstep. He was a true gift to the world, he said to himself, not caring how cheesy it was because it was true. Not only did Harry have a big heart, which was shown in the way he treated his patients, but he was absolutely gorgeous; stunning, even. He was extremely good-looking in his scrubs, of course, but he had never had this affect on Louis before, even in the club.

Harry’s hair, which was notably longer than when he’d first started working at the hospital, was down, and perfect ringlets framed his face. He was wearing fitted clothes, showing off his tall, lean, and toned body, and his sleeves were rolled up, showing Louis something he had never seen on Harry before. _Tattoos_. Louis almost asked Harry if he wanted to skip dinner and go right to dessert, but he managed to hold onto enough sanity to refrain.

“Yep, this is my place,” Louis said lamely, the wheels in his brain starting to work again, but slowly.

“It’s nice,” Harry said, just to be kind. Louis knew his place wasn’t anything special.

“Thank you,” he said anyway. “And thanks for picking me up.”

“No problem.”

“Do you want to come in for a minute?” Louis asked. “I just have to grab my phone and my wallet, then I’ll be ready.”

Harry stepped in as Louis backed away from the doorway. He smiled slightly to himself as his eyes scanned the room curiously, and Louis made sure to hurry while grabbing his belongings. He hadn’t brought a man into his house since his ex broke up with him, and Louis couldn’t explain why, but it felt strange. Not that he still wanted his most recent ex, or any ex for that matter, but since the break up, Louis’s house had been his personal haven. It was where he got to lay his head after long days at the hospital. His home was a place he could let himself feel everything he typically denied or pushed away around others.

If he was going to let anyone possibly disturb his haven, though, he thought Harry Styles was a good choice.

“Okay, I’m ready. Sorry,” Louis said after spending more time than he’d expected trying to find both his wallet and his phone. His brain hadn’t seemed to be firing off neurons as quickly as they had before he was sick, and it was true that the problem had only grown worse after his seizure. There wasn’t time to dwell on the possible implications of that, though. That was something Louis would focus on when he was alone in his bed, wrapped in his favorite fuzzy blanket and so comfortable that death didn’t scare him anymore.

“No need to apologize,” Harry assured the other, and then opened the front door. “After you.”

He gestured kindly, allowing Louis to go out before him, which he did. Once Harry had closed the door, Louis locked up and headed to the slightly dented car sitting in his driveway.

“Sorry about the ride,” Harry said as he opened the passenger side door for Louis. “Getting a car is next up on my to-do list but I figured I should probably save a few months’ worth of paychecks first, so for now, I still have this old Bernice.”

Harry patted the top of the car gently and Louis smiled.

“As long as she runs, she’s good enough for me,” Louis told the other.

“She does. Usually,” Harry said and, with a smile, closed the door after verifying Louis was settled inside.

“You can adjust the heat and pick some tunes,” the driver allowed as he started up the car-the engine turned over, though put up quite a fuss about it-and buckled his seatbelt. “The air conditioning gave out at the end of summer, but, luckily, the heat is still going strong.”

“I’m always cold anyway,” Louis said, turning the heat up just a tad. “What do you want to listen to?”

“It’s up to you. My Ipod is in the glovebox if you want to hook it up, or you can pick a station.”

Retrieving Harry’s Ipod-and being quite endeared by the fact that it was pink-Louis connected it to the store-bought adapter and scrolled through the other’s music. Harry had thousands of songs by several different artists; some mainstream and some that Louis had never heard of. Eventually, he thought it would be nice to get to know some new music, but for the time being, he decided to stick with something safe.

“A man after my own heart,” Louis said as “Mr. Brightside” began playing through the speakers.

“Who? Brandon Flowers?” Harry asked, talking about the lead singer of The Killers.

“Um, yeah,” Louis said, because he’d meant Harry but thought it would be awkward to say so.

“He’s so talented,” Harry said, and for the remainder of the drive, the two discussed music, which, as it turned out, was a passion for them both.

“I was in a band before I went to nursing school,” Harry told Louis, somewhat hesitantly, when the conversation seemed to be dying down.

“Really?!” Louis asked, not sure why he was surprised. Maybe ‘intrigued’ was a better word.

“Yeah,” he said. “I did guitar and keyboard. Niall was the bassist, Zayn was the singer and extra guitarist, and my mate Liam was the drummer.”

“Is Liam the one who…was with Zayn?”

Louis had luckily managed to prevent himself from insensitively asking if Liam was the one who had died, but he wondered if Harry knew because his voice was softer when he answered.

“Yeah,” he said and, in the next instant, he perked up again. “Those were some good times, but I don’t think I would have wanted to do it for a career.”

Louis agreed on how unglamorous life on the road probably was, despite what others thought, and let Harry lead the conversation, not wanting to see the sadness he’d momentarily had on his face when he thought of the friend he had lost. He didn’t want Harry to be sad, of course, but Louis also didn’t want to think about leaving that look on the face of the ones he may soon leave behind.


	7. Chapter 7

When Harry was woken up to his phone ringing, he hoped it was Louis calling to tell him, once again, what a great time he’d had and ask him if he wanted to grab some breakfast. Or brunch. Or lunch. Harry wasn’t sure what time it was because, even though it felt like he’d just fallen asleep minutes ago, he wasn’t groggy as he came to. Maybe he was still energized from the previous night.

During dinner, Louis didn’t eat much, and Harry would have asked him if he felt okay, but then he realized he hadn’t eaten much either. There wasn’t a lot of time for chewing when the conversation was flowing so well. They talked about hobbies, movies, childhood dreams, Harry’s tattoos, goals for the future, and pets they had throughout the years. Louis, as it turned out, was a great conversationalist, always switching topics smoothly and with the ability to be serious one minute and joking the next. He was also, however, a great listener and sometimes brought two seemingly unrelated topics around full circle by bringing up something Harry had told him three conversations ago.

After dinner, Harry drove Louis home, expecting him to want to go to bed and get some rest. It was, after all, a school night. That was when Louis told him that he was going in late due to a doctor appointment mid-morning that he was probably going to skip anyway. Harry advised against it, but once Louis told him that it wasn’t a cancer appointment, just an eye doctor visit, Harry’s resistance slackened.

“Besides,” Louis had said, “I’m trying to put off getting glasses as long as I can. I won’t lie, I can look quite cute in the decorative ones, but the prescription ones will look gross on my face.”

“I think you’d look cute with glasses, real or not,” Harry had said.

“Harry, as my nurse, it is important that we have a trusting relationship, and we can’t do that if you’re willing to so blatantly lie right to my face,” Louis said.

Probably, though, it was Niall or Zayn calling to question him about how the previous night went or, worse, the hospital wanting him to cover a shift.

However, the name shining up at Harry from his screen is one he never expected to see again. He stared at it, a new array of feelings taking hold of him. They weren’t all bad, but he found his voice shaking as he answered the phone at the last possible second.

“Hello?” he asked, not meaning to sound so reluctant. Most of all, he was simply confused.

“Hi, Harry,” Karen Payne, Liam’s mother, spoke into the receiver with the same gentle voice Harry remembered from growing up. Since the last time he’d spoken to the woman- the last day Liam had been alive-most of the grief had faded from her voice. Harry was sure she still had the ability to feel it as strongly as that day all those years ago-as strongly as the rest of them still did some days, unexpectedly-but it sounded like maybe today was going to be a good day for her.

“Hey, Karen,” Harry said, her name sounding strange to his own ears, like it only belonged to someone he’d known in another lifetime. In a way, he supposed that was true. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Harry, thank you,” the woman replied, which Harry realized was the easy answer to give when someone didn’t want to actually talk about how they were, but since she had been the one to call him, Harry let it slide, figuring she had her own agenda.

“How have you been doing?” the woman asked.

“Oh, I’m alright,” Harry said. “I’ve been working as a nurse for the past few months and that’s…cool, I guess.”

“Honey, I’m so proud of you!”

For some reason, the authenticity in Karen’s voice caused a lump to form in Harry’s throat and he quickly blinked back moisture. He wasn’t sure what had affected him so much. He had a great mother who told him that she was proud of him at least once a week, so it wasn’t as if Harry was starving to hear the words. He chalked it up to still being tired. After all, the phone call had woken him up, though he wasn’t bothered. He understood why, after Liam’s passing, his friend’s mother had deleted all social media and moved away. He got why she no longer called any of her late son’s friends. Really, why would she?

The question now was, why was she suddenly calling again after all these years?

“Thank you,” Harry said, somewhat belatedly, but Karen either didn’t notice or didn’t bother to question what his brief silence was about.

“Of course. I’m sure your patients love you.”

“Yeah…maybe. I don’t know,” Harry replied, picturing Louis’s face as he closed his eyes.

“You’ve always been a bit too humble,” Karen told the man with a small laugh. “Of course, that’s partly why Liam loves you so much.”

Though her improper use of the present tense caused a sharp pain to tear through Harry’s chest, he didn’t correct her. It was probably unhealthy, he thought, for her to refuse to acknowledge Liam with past-tense verbs, but who was he to judge how a mother kept going through life after losing her youngest child and only son?

“I love him too,” Harry said. There was no need for past-tense on his end, even now.

“I know you do,” Karen said. “That’s mostly why I’m calling. You’ve always been very important to our family, Harry, and I don’t want you to think I stopped caring.”

“I don’t,” Harry assured her.

“Good,” Karen said. After another brief pause between the two, the woman continued.

“So, is there anything else exciting going on besides staring your new career?”

“Not really,” Harry said. Even though he thought his not-date with Louis the previous night was pretty exciting, it was nothing he thought his best friend’s mom would care about. To make his life seem less pathetic, he added, “School took up the last few years and I’m just now getting settled into my new life and career.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that at all,” Karen assured him. Harry thanked her, and then the woman asked,

“How are Niall and Zayn?” 

That answered another question Harry had been wondering about; had Karen called the two others? True, he had been closer to Liam than Niall-though not by much-but Zayn had been his fiancé. Harry thought she would have called him before thinking of Harry.

“They’re doing pretty well,” Harry answered. “Niall just started dating someone-or at least I think they’re dating-and Zayn received a big promotion at work a little less than a year ago.”

“That’s great!” Karen said, and then did not waste much time before asking,

“Has Zayn started seeing anyone again?”

She’d asked non-chalantly, but for some reason, Harry still felt mildly uncomfortable answering.

“No. He’s, uh…well…He’s not very interested in dating anymore.”

“But he’s such a handsome boy,” Karen said, and then corrected herself. “A handsome _man_ now, I suppose. He doesn’t think that Liam would be upset if he dated, does he?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry told her truthfully. “He just feels like there was only one person for him. He’s even got a secret admirer sending him a bunch of stuff right now, but he’s not having it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“That’s sad,” Karen finally said.

“He doesn’t seem too upset by it,” Harry said because Liam’s mom didn’t need to feel sorry for any of them. She had her own grief to live through every day. “I mean, obviously, he wishes things had turned out differently, but he’s just glad he had Liam while he did. Liam was so good to him.”

“It went both ways,” Karen said, and Harry smiled, despite the fact that it was getting harder for him to control his emotions.

“Yeah, it did,” he agreed quietly.

“Maybe someday, a special someone will enter his life and he’ll fall in love again.”

“He deserves it,” Harry said.

“He does. And so do you.”

Lightening her tone, Karen asked,

“Do you have any news in that department?”

With a small laugh, Harry said,

“No, not really.”

“Not _really?”_

“I went out with someone last night. Not like a date or anything.”

Even though Harry would be lying if he said it hadn’t felt like a date.

“We’re having fun, and I kind of like him, but I don’t think anything will happen.”

“Why not?! You’re smart, gorgeous, sweet, and funny. Why wouldn’t he like you back?”

“I dunno,” Harry said in lieu of explaining the whole situation. Besides, he was trying to keep the fact that he had a possible out-of-bounds relationship with his patient a secret to anyone who wasn’t already aware of it. “We’re in way different places in our lives right now.”

“I bet he likes you anyway,” Karen said. Harry laughed again.

“Thanks, mummy number two,” he said.

“Of course,” she replied, and then, “Anyway, Harry, I just wanted to call and catch up a bit; let you know I hadn’t forgotten about you.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said truthfully. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

“I hope so. You can call this number anytime.”

“Cool. And if you’re ever in the area again, I know my mum would love for all of us to get dinner or something.”

“That would be fun,” Karen agreed. “I’m thinking of visiting soon.”

“Just let me know when and we’ll make it happen.”

“I will. Have a good day, sweetie.”

“Thank you. I hope you have a good day too.”

“I think I will.”

After saying their goodbyes, Harry disconnected the call, a small smile on his face. Even though the conversation had taken him through an emotional whirlwind, he was glad he’d heard from the woman, despite their last meeting being full of anger and grief.

_Zayn tripped on the way to his seat, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was due to the drinks he’d ingested before coming, or if the weight bearing down on him made it hard to lift his feet. Niall reached out, but by the time his arms were around Zayn’s waist, the man had steadied himself again, and he sniffled as he shakily lowered himself into his seat; his arms wrapped tightly around his own torso as if it was freezing when, in fact, it was a beautiful day out, weather wise._

_Perhaps because he’d already thrown himself a funeral while he was still alive, Liam had requested that he didn’t have a typical memorial service. Funeral homes were depressing and smelled weird, he said. He’d been cremated, so there was no reason for a casket. Therefore, instead of a typical ceremony, Liam’s loved ones were gathered together at a park, facing a large portrait of Liam from only a couple weeks before finding out he was sick. Though Liam had kept up a positive attitude throughout most of his illness, there was a joy and innocence on his face in that photo that had disappeared the day the doctors had given him the awful news. Harry felt like a terrible friend for not realizing it before now._

_A projector sitting only a few feet behind the portrait was showing a slideshow of Liam’s life, but instead of the melancholy piano music that funeral homes typically provided as the soundtrack, Liam had put together a list of his favorite songs, which his sisters had loyally incorporated into their project. Currently, “Uptown Funk” was playing, and despite everything, Harry couldn’t help but to let out a small laugh, which he covered with a cough in case someone would get the wrong idea._

_“I hate this fucking song,” Zayn whispered as he laid his head on Harry’s shoulder._

_“No, you don’t,” Harry whispered back, allowing himself only an inkling of a smile. “You just got tired of Liam making you sing it with him every time we went to karaoke.”_

_“True,” Zayn agreed._

_It was then that movement in the front row drew Harry’s attention. Karen had just arrived and, though he only caught a glimpse of her face before the woman sat, her back to Harry, he was able to tell that she wasn’t crying. Her face was blank; just about as emotionless as Liam’s had been when the doctors had pumped him with medicine to make the ‘transition’ as comfortable as possible. Of course, they’d probably given Karen something for grief. Zayn had been offered prescription medication as well, but he’d turned it down, which Harry was quietly grateful for. He doubted Zayn would give up his preferred methods of comfort-alcohol and weed-and Harry had been nervous for him to mix all three._

_When it was time to recite speeches, Harry, Niall, and Zayn gave virtually the same ones they’d spoken when Liam had been in attendance. Zayn, who was holding up better than Harry had ever expected, broke for just a couple moments during the part about how hard it had been to watch Liam suffer; the same part he’d stopped at the last time before Liam had wrapped him in a tight embrace. Harry even saw Zayn glance back, as if he expected his fiancé to do it again, but, of course, Liam wasn’t there-not physically, at least-and so, with a hard swallow and a deep breath, Zayn continued. He didn’t return to his seat afterward, but instead, walked until he was out of earshot and screamed profanities at a poor innocent tree, which then got its revenge when he broke a toe kicking it._

_Niall ended up taking Zayn to the hospital and Harry, unable to hold back the tears any longer, attended the rest of the service. At the end, Liam’s family met up with him to give and receive hugs and empty words of comfort; all of them except Karen. Without even glancing at Harry or to where Zayn should have been sitting, she departed with a few minutes of the memorial still left and, until years later, Harry never heard from her again._

“Hey, Andrea! Are you ready to head downstairs?”

The patient, who still had her spunky personality despite losing almost ten pounds in the last few weeks, rolled her eyes.

“Oh, yes, Harry! Chemo is so exciting!”

“I didn’t ask if you were excited,” Harry pointed out with a smile. “Just if you were ready.”

“Guess I can’t think of a reason to say no.”

“Would you like a wheelchair?”

“Fuck that.”

Harry laughed as the young woman rose to her feet and walked out with a slightly unsteady gait.

“You remind me a lot of Louis,” Harry told her, thinking of it as one of the highest compliments he could give.

“Louis was supposed to be my soul mate, but I guess God forgot that and made him gay,” Andrea said, and Harry chuckled again.

“Unfortunate,” he sympathized.

“Yeah, for me, but very fortunate for a man one day, huh?”

Andrea was staring at Harry as if she knew, but he told himself that was ridiculous. Sure, he knew she and Louis talked, but he doubted Louis would have said anything about the two of them going out. Having dinner with an acquaintance was hardly gossip worthy. Deciding to play it safe anyway, Harry gave a noncommittal hum though, of course, Andrea was right.

Moments later, as they entered the room where Andrea would be receiving treatment, the subject of their conversation appeared, taking a seat in the chair farthest from the doorway.

“Louis!” Andrea and Harry said at the same time; Andrea’s tone one of excitement and Harry’s of surprise and worry. The woman picked up her pace as she made her way over to her friend, and Harry followed.

“Hey, girl,” Louis said, offering his friend a weak smile, and then he saw Harry over her shoulder and his eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights. In a knowing tone, Harry said,

“I didn’t think you had a session today, Louis?”

“Did I say that?” Louis asked with a falsely innocent smile. Harry narrowed his eyes, aware that Andrea was looking back and forth between the pair, confused. So she probably didn’t know about them seeing each other outside of work, then, which Harry reminded himself was a good thing.

Instead of answering Louis, Harry simply shook his head and began hooking Andrea up to her machine. He was aware of Louis’s eyes on him, and when he smiled, he offered one back, even though he had been blatantly lied to by the other man the previous night.

“Do either one of you need anything?” Harry asked, and when they said they didn’t, he informed them that he would be back to get Andrea when her session was over and made his way back to his usual floor. Having arrived to work only a few minutes ago, Harry’s phone was still in the pocket of his scrubs, and as he walked, he sent a message to Louis.

_I think your pants are about to catch on fire,_ he said. In response, Louis sent the angel emoji and then texted,

_It was just a little white lie so you would come inside last night. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to keep you around as long as he can._

His cheeks burning, Harry bit his lip, glad he was alone in the elevator.

_Bad,_ was the only thing he could think to reply, and Louis sent back the smirking emoji. When Harry didn’t reply, Louis sent him another messag, though Harry didn’t receive it until he went on break.

_I’ll make it up to you if you come over tomorrow._

_I’m holding you to that,_ Harry replied, growing hot again as his mind ran rampant with the possibilities of how Louis could ensure he kept his word.

_6:30?_ Louis replied almost immediately.

_I’ll be there,_ Harry told him, and wondered if he should be concerned over the fact that he wasn’t even too worried about getting caught fraternizing with a patient anymore.

Maybe his friends were right. Maybe he just really needed to get laid.

Harry arrived to Louis’s place at 6:32 the next evening, and the man clucked his tongue at him when he opened the door.

“You’re late. The party’s over.”

“Damn. Quick party,” Harry said.

“Don’t get used to it. Nothing with me usually lasts for that short amount of time.”

Okay, so Louis was definitely hitting on him now; testing the boundaries. This should have been when Harry put him in check and reminded him that what they were doing wasn’t going to go any further than eating meals together or friendly visits at one another’s house.

He should have, but he didn’t. In fact, he suddenly found it hard to speak and he cleared his throat, holding out the reason he had been late; a gift basket containing a couple bottles of wine and some chocolate.

“Is this an acceptable apology?” he asked after he felt able to speak somewhat normally again. Luckily, his voice didn’t sound as weak as he felt.

Before taking the basket, Louis checked out the contents inside, then looked up at Harry and smiled.

“I suppose I can be bribed this time. Come in.”

Louis took the basket and stepped back. Harry entered the flat, rubbing his hands together, more out of nerves than anything, but Louis said,

“It is pretty cold out there today.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, though he’d been too caught up in his thoughts to pay much attention to the weather outside. “Nice and warm in here, though.”

“Lottie always complains; tells me it’s too hot,” Louis said, “but when you’ve got minimal body fat and a slow heart rate, you tend to get cold. Let me know if you’re too hot though.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Harry said because, while it was exceptionally warm in Louis’s place, the other man’s comfort mattered to him more than his own.

“Should we crack one of these bottles open now?” Louis asked.

“It’s up to you,” Harry said. “They aren’t cold yet, though.”

“Yeah, good point,” Louis said, putting the basket on top of his counter and opening the refrigerator to place the wine bottles inside. When he re-emerged from inside the fridge, he had a different bottle and smiled as he handed it to Harry.

“Luckily for us, I was prepared. Do you mind opening it, though? My muscles are sore today.”

“Not at all,” Harry said, accepting the bottle and the corkscrew as Louis handed them to him.

“Thanks,” Louis said.

“You’re welcome.”

Harry wanted to ask Louis how he was feeling, but thought it was rather pointless. He was paler than usual today, and the dark circles under his eyes were too extreme to be completely covered with makeup. Actually, Harry wasn’t sure if Louis had even tried, and he wondered if that meant he was getting more comfortable with Harry seeing him as his most vulnerable, or if he simply had not had the energy to mess with it. The latter was probably truest.

“Thank you,” Louis said again when Harry had successfully uncorked the bottle and handed it back to him.

“Any time,” Harry said, and watched as Louis poured them each a glass.

“Something smells good,” the nurse commented after Louis had handed him his glass and Harry thanked him.

“Thanks. Made it myself,” Louis said as he opened the oven door and took out a whole five-course meal. The salad, he took from the refrigerator.

“Wow,” Harry said, thoroughly impressed, but then Louis gave an impish grin.

“Just kidding,” he said. “I ordered it from somewhere and Lottie dropped it off to me on her way home from work.”

Harry laughed, taking a small sip of his wine when he found it safe to do so.

“Nothing wrong with that,” he told him.

“That’s what I tell myself,” Louis said. He took a sip of his own wine before getting into a cupboard and bringing out some plates and a couple of salad bowls. “Help yourself,” he told Harry.

“You first.”

“You’re the guest.”

“Yeah, but I was late.”

“Good point.”

Harry smiled, approaching the stove as Louis helped himself to a bit of everything except dessert, for the time being. For the past few days, inappropriate thoughts of Louis had been plaguing Harry’s mind, but suddenly, those feelings softened into something just as intense, but more tender. He wanted to rub Louis’s back, kiss his cheek, caress his face. He wanted to find a way to make Louis’s hands stop shaking from the mere effort of getting food for himself and take away the soreness he knew the other man to be feeling. Some of those thoughts, he supposed, were technically still inappropriate due to the nature of their relationship, but he didn’t want to think about that. He knew his intentions, and they weren’t to take advantage of an ill, vulnerable man. They were to make his time on Earth as comfortable and enjoyable as it could be, no matter how short or long that time frame was.

“I can’t tell you the last time I actually ate at my table,” Louis said light-heartedly as Harry sat down across from him and took another sip of his wine. “Usually, it’s just a catch-all for my mail and whatever else I have that I don’t know what to do with.”

“Well, I feel honored that you cleared it off just for me,” Harry replied.

“As you should.”

Harry smiled, and then took a bite of pasta, his eyes widening with surprised pleasure almost as soon as the flavors hit his taste buds.

“This is amazing!” he said. Louis, who hadn’t yet taken a bite, took that moment to try it, and after thinking on it briefly, he nodded.

“It tastes like carbs and dairy and fat, and all the delicious things I rarely let myself eat before,” he said. “If cancer’s done one good thing for me, it’s allowing me to eat good food again without gaining weight. You know, on the rare days I can actually eat a proper meal.”

Harry laughed, belatedly wondering if that was an appropriate response, but Louis smiled, showing him that he didn’t mind. The nurse said,

“There’s nothing wrong with eating healthy, but you’ve gotta let yourself have the yummy stuff sometimes.”

“I said _rarely_ ate. Believe me, I still indulged on a good occasion.”

“Good. Carbs are important for your mental health.”

Louis had just taken a bite and he giggled, covering his mouth with the back of his hand in the adorable way he often did. Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“You’re very smart,” Louis told the other. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to school to become a doctor?”

“Probably not,” Harry said. “I don’t want to deliver bad news; just try to bring comfort to those who’ve already received it.”

Louis thought on that, and then nodded.

“Good,” he said after taking a fairly large gulp from his cup. “Doctors are dicks anyway.”

“That’s been my experience with them as well,” Harry agreed, and Louis clinked his glass against the other’s.

“I like you, Styles. You’re a cool cat.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and was about to ask Louis if he was already feeling his wine, but a hiccup from the other man answered that question.

“God, I’m a mess,” Louis said.

“Well, as you pointed out, you have nearly zero percent body fat,” Harry allowed.

“Yeah, but I’ve always had a shit tolerance,” Louis said, and Harry laughed again.

“That’s alright,” he said. “You can get drunk for cheaper.”

“Exactly!”

Louis hiccupped again, but was undeterred from drinking more of his wine. Harry followed suit.

“Still can’t believe you lied to me the other day,” he said, and Louis grinned.

“I didn’t _really_. I did have an eye doctor appointment.”

“Maybe, but you also had a chemo appointment.”

“Yes, well…”

Trailing off, Harry suspected Louis of trying to think of a good one liner but when he failed to do so, he simply shrugged and polished off his first glass of wine.

“Would you like some more?” Harry asked, simultaneously impressed and worried.

“Please,” Louis said, so Harry filled up the other man’s glass and topped off his own.

After finishing their meal, Harry and Louis decided to take a breather before diving into dessert, and together they sat on the couch, Louis scrolling through Netflix in an attempt to find a movie that seemed watchable.

“It’s hopeless,” he said, slumping against Harry, who, against his better judgement, pulled the man closer and began gently rubbing his arm.

“If we drink a little more wine, anything will probably be decent enough,” he rationalized.

“Yeah, but we left it on the table and I don’t want to get up right now,” Louis said.

“I can get up,” Harry offered, but Louis put an arm over his torso and snuggled deeper into Harry’s side.

“I’m comfy, so I don’t want you to get up either,” he said.

“Well, alright then,” Harry said, smiling, though Louis couldn’t see.

“Unless you want more wine,” Louis added.

“I can wait a bit,” Harry said.

“Okay.”

Beginning his search again, Louis took a bit more time reading the summaries of the films while Harry admired the way Louis fit against him so perfectly. He was so close that Harry could feel his heartbeat, and it was then that he realized Louis had been right earlier; his heart rate was slower than that of an average, healthy person. That fact unexpectedly brought tears to his eyes and Harry blinked at the ceiling rapidly until they, thankfully, disappeared. Louis, moderately tipsy and concentrating on his task of finding a movie, seemed to notice nothing. 

“Okay, I give up. You pick one,” Louis said, handing his remote over to Harry.

“You know, I think I have some movies on my Vudu account I haven’t watched yet,” the other man said. “Do you want to try those instead?”

“Yeah, okay.”

In the end, they decided on a romantic comedy, though Harry questioned that decision only a few minutes into the film. His hormones were already elevated, so why had he agreed to watch something that was sure to raise them even more?

It was at that moment that Harry decided to pour them more wine, and soon, Louis’s eyes began to grow heavy.

“This okay?” he asked, his words slightly slurred, as he retrieved a blanket from the chair next to the couch and put it over himself while moving even closer to Harry. Soon, Louis was going to be on his lap.

“Yeah, it’s definitely okay,” Harry said anyway, and barely resisted the urge to kiss the top of the man’s head, if only for the fact that he was wearing his beanie and Harry wasn’t interested in getting a mouthful of fabric. He continued, “But are you tired? Do you want me to go?”

“I’m tired, but I don’t want you to go,” Louis said, and so Harry stayed, even after Louis gave in to the sandman and drifted off; even after the movie ended and the credits had rolled by; even after he watched another movie all by himself.

After that second movie, Harry decided he couldn’t hold his bladder any longer, and though he tried to be careful, Louis startled awake before Harry had even fully stood.

“You going?” Louis asked. Harry wasn’t sure if he meant to ask if he was leaving or just where he was going, but he answered,

“Bathroom.”

“Are you coming back?” Louis asked, his eyes already threatening to close again.

“I probably should at least help you to bed,” Harry answered with a smile that Louis probably couldn’t see. Nonetheless, his forehead creased, and Harry realized he was trying to wiggle his eyebrows.

“If you insist,” Louis told him.

“God, Lou. Not like that,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Damn,” Louis said. “Maybe another time.”

Harry said nothing in response to that, but he didn’t think he needed to. By the time he’d used the toilet, washed his hands, and went back to the living room, Louis was already sound asleep again, the blanket nearly completely covering him.

“Lou,” Harry said softly, gently touching the other man’s shoulder. Again, he jerked awake, or at least partly so.

“Yeah, bed,” he said, attempting to stand, but he fell into Harry.

“Why don’t I carry you?” Harry suggested, for Louis looked wiped out just from getting off the couch.

“Yes, Master,” Louis replied.

“Why are you like this?” Harry chuckled light-heartedly as he gracefully picked Louis up bridle-style.

“I don’t think we have time for psychoanalysis tonight,” Louis said.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agreed. He realized then that he didn’t know where Louis’s bedroom was and the other man was giving him no direction, but the house wasn’t that large, so it didn’t take Harry long to come across it.

“Alright, are you comfy?” he asked after carefully laying Louis in bed and pulling the blankets around his body for him.

“Comfy cozy,” Louis assured him.

“And you’ll be alright on your own?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Louis replied, and then added, “but you could always stay if you wanted.”

Harry hesitated. He wanted to with everything he had in him, but his morals were arguing against the thought. On the other hand, Louis was quite out of it and very weak, so what if he got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and fell, like he’d almost done getting up from the couch? What if he didn’t have the strength to stand again, or hit his head on the way down?

But what if Harry got caught, lost his license, and wasted all those years in school for nothing?

_Not for nothing_ , he quickly reminded himself. _You met Louis._

Blushing as if Louis could read his thoughts, Harry cleared his throat and said,

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to, Harry,” Louis told him. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“I want to,” Harry said.

“Then there’s a spare toothbrush still in the package in the bathroom. I have some nightclothes that should fit you except for maybe being a little short.”

“Alright. Thanks,” Harry said. After a slightly awkward pause in which he wasn’t sure if Louis had fallen asleep again or not, he turned on his heel and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He didn’t have his facewash or moisturizer, so he was a bit worried he would wake up with a breakout the next morning, but he figured it was a small price to pay for a little longer with Louis. And, of course, to make sure the man remained safe during the night.

Louis’s room was dark and Harry didn’t want to risk disturbing him by turning on the light, so in lieu of scouring for something to wear to bed, Harry simply stripped down to his boxers. He usually ran warm anyway, and with all of the blankets Louis had on the bed on top of his warmer-than-average home, he would probably be a sweaty mess by morning.

“Is this okay?” he asked Louis when the other opened his eyes upon Harry crawling into bed with him.

“No,” Louis said. “It’s dark and I can’t properly see your body.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head even though Louis probably couldn’t tell.

“Maybe in the morning,” he said.

“Maybe,” Louis agreed.

“Goodnight, Lou.”

“Night, Harry. Oh, and don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. No one has to know.”

“I trust you.”

“And maybe…,” Louis began, and then trailed off. His breathing pattern didn’t hint that he’d fallen asleep again though, so Harry quietly prodded,

“Maybe…?”

“Maybe if we want to keep, you know, hanging out, I can just switch hospitals.”

“I don’t want you to have to do that,” Harry said, thought a flicker of hope ignited in him at the thought.

“Just something to think about,” Louis commented.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I suppose it is.”

After saying goodnight to each other one last time, Louis drifted off again, though Harry wouldn’t fall asleep for a while. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable; In fact, quite the opposite. As he laid in Louis’s bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark well enough to be able to make out the man’s features, Harry realized that he’d missed laying with someone at night. He thought that he would miss laying next to Louis come tomorrow night when he was back in his own bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this almost every chapter, but I’m sorry for the unstable posting. This year has been crazy for everyone and I’m trying to get better about updating. It will be my New Years Resolution ;)

Louis’s house was eerily quiet as Harry woke up. The coldness from beside of him suggested that Louis was no longer in the bed, so why was the place silent?

On instant alert, Harry bolted upright and was out of bed before his brain had sent the signal to his legs that he was awake. Stumbling to the side, he nearly hit the wall, but regained balance quickly and hurried out of the room, whisper-shouting Louis’s name. His panic became worse as he made his way down the hall with no response from the other.

“Louis!” he called a bit louder, and then thanked the higher powers that may be when he heard his friend’s voice call,

“In the kitchen!”

Slowing his pace a bit, Harry entered the kitchen, letting out a subtle sigh of relief when he saw Louis sitting at the table digging into some type of chocolate dish.

“Good morning,” Harry said, attempting normalcy. Not falling for it, one of Louis’s eyebrows quirked up.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…didn’t know where you were.”

Harry didn’t want to tell Louis that he’d envisioned him unconscious and injured somewhere, unsure if Louis would appreciate Harry worrying about him like his nurse when he’d just spend the night at his house like a friend.

There was a beat of silence during which Louis seemed to be contemplating Harry’s words as he slowly-Harry would almost dare to say seductively-took a bite from the chocolate cake sitting in front of him. Harry watched him lick the crumbs from his lips and then Louis said,

“I’m here, eating last night’s dessert for breakfast.”

“I forgot all about dessert,” Harry admitted, sitting in the chair across from Louis after mentally reeling in his hormones.

“It’s good. Wanna try?” Louis asked, offering a forkful of cake out to Harry, who wordlessly accepted. He wasn’t a teenager, nor was he in some sappy romance movie or food-based porno, so the act of taking a bite of cake from Louis’s fork shouldn’t have been the least bit exotic, but as he’d come to realize last night, Niall was smarter than he looked and Harry needed to get laid.

But not by Louis.

Who was his patient.

“Do you like it?” Louis asked, and Harry realized that he’d given no feedback whatsoever on the cake. Harry wasn’t even sure the taste had registered with him, but he answered anyway.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” he said, and Louis glanced at him down the bridge of his nose.

“Very convincing,” he said sarcastically, and Harry smiled.

“Sorry. It is good. I’m just still a bit tired.”

“You can go back to bed,” Louis offered.

“I’m okay,” Harry assured him. “I usually can’t fall back to sleep once I’m awake.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you have a brain that won’t shut up.”

“Mine must shut off a lot, then.”

“Treatment will do that to you,” Harry allowed, and Louis nodded.

“Chemo brain,” he said, and the nurse laughed.

“Don’t feel bad. Just because my brain is constantly running at a hundred miles an hour doesn’t mean it’s being productive. Yesterday I nearly shaved my face using cool whip.”

Louis laughed loudly, nearly choking on cake as a result. After taking a long drink from the cup in front of him, he asked,

“How does that even happen?”

“I came home from the grocery with shaving cream and cool whip the day before, and the shaving cream went in the fridge while the cool whip mysteriously ended up in the medicine cabinet.”

“I see…I’m not sure I want you to be my nurse anymore.”

Harry laughed, but Louis didn’t return it, as expected. Looking Harry up and down, he said,

“Now that I’ve seen you half naked in good lighting and have the image of you covered in whipped cream in my brain, I think it is quite medically necessary for me to change hospitals.”

Harry turned red, only just remembering that the only thing he was wearing was underwear. In his haste to make sure Louis was okay, he hadn’t thought about what he’d fallen asleep in, and once he’d found Louis he was, well, distracted, and quite warm enough to think he was fully clothed.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said, smiling and wrapping his arms around his torso, as if that mattered now. Louis raised an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t render an apology. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Harry smiled but found himself at a loss for what to say. Louis was flirting with him-and God knew Harry wanted to flirt back; throw the plate of cake to the floor and have his way with Louis right there on the table, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to the other. Harry’d had a few flings while attending nursing school, but that was all they were, and both parties knew that was all they were going to be. He never had sex with someone he knew intimately unless he was in a serious relationship with them. The guys he’d been with at university were men he’d never talked to for any purpose other than planning when and where they were going to have sex. It was the type of night where they’d thank each other for the good time and never speak again. Emotions were never involved, and, at the time, that was exactly what Harry had needed.

With Louis, though, there would be emotions involved. There already _were_ emotions involved, and that led to a very high possibility that it would end terribly, even if Harry somehow managed to keep his nursing license.

For Louis, there probably weren’t as many emotions involved. Harry knew there was a large part of Louis that didn’t think he was going to beat his illness this time. Sex with Harry would just be sex to him because he might not even be around for it to evolve into anything more. Harry, however, would be left with the aftermath of learning how to love Louis only to have to live without him again. He could do it. Surely, if he survived losing his best friend-brother, really-he could carry on if things went wrong for Louis, but it would take a piece of him. Something had gone missing from Harry when Liam left, and he knew it would be the same with Louis. The closer he got to Louis, the larger the missing piece would be, and a man could only lose so much before becoming a shell.

“Do you want a piece of cake?” Louis asked, changing the subject when his subtle proposition didn’t receive a response. Harry smiled, hoping Louis could read the apology in it, and said,

“Sure. Thanks.”

After eating, Harry brushed his teeth and curled up with Louis on the couch to watch a couple episodes of some new Netflix show that Louis hadn’t been interested in the previous night but suddenly sounded good today. After that, Louis announced that it was time for his mid-morning nap and Harry took that as his cue to leave. He kissed Louis on the cheek before walking out the front door, and regretted it all the way home.

After parking outside of his apartment, but before leaving the car or even taking off his seatbelt, Harry unlocked his phone and logged into his Grindr account that Niall had made him. He hadn’t been on it since the day it was created, and he’d never planned to log in again, but Harry knew firsthand how quickly plans could change.

Scrolling through his hundreds of unread messages, Harry didn’t see anyone that impressed him all that much, but taking into account that he was comparing them all to Louis, Harry knew he had to lower his standards. Maybe none of them gave him the butterfly-in-his-stomach feeling that he got when he looked at Louis, but that’s what he was trying to avoid; feelings.

Harry shut off his car but remained inside it while he went back through his options, slower. Finally, he settled on a guy named Richie, who was moderately attractive and only slightly interesting, based on his profile, but it was the first Harry came across that said he was down for ‘casual sex only,’ so maybe he was perfect.

Louis hadn’t actually planned to fall asleep. He thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Harry, but every time he focused on his disheveled, curly locks, or those dimples, or his eyes, or _that body_ , it felt like the air was thickening around him, making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, Louis had needed Harry to leave so he could ensure he was just in lust and not on death’s doorstep. As he awoke from the nap he’d unexpectedly fallen into, though, he still wasn’t quite sure. He was sweating, despite shivering from the deep cold that chilled his bones. His head hurt, and his back and, well, mostly everything else. When he sat up, he felt unsteady, and Louis cursed quietly to himself. Moving slower, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t bother taking his temperature, not wanting to be faced with the dilemma of whether or not to go to the hospital if it was over 100.4, and he took four Ibuprofen tablets. After swallowing the last pill, he looked in the mirror and sighed. What had made him think, even for a second, that Harry would want to have sex with him? Harry, with those curls, those dimples, those eyes, and _that body_ …Hell, Louis probably wouldn’t be on his top fifty list of people he’d want to fuck, while Harry was likely in the top five of everyone who was even remotely interested in men.

“Stupid,” Louis muttered to himself before sulking to his living room and laying on the couch. His time was limited, probably more so than others, so surely he should do something better than staring at the ceiling and feeling sorry for himself, but that was what he wanted to do at the moment, so it was precisely what he did.

Louis didn’t want to die a virgin.

Okay, so he wasn’t technically a virgin, but it had been so long that it almost felt like he was. Funnily enough, he hadn’t been bothered by it until recently. Usually, he felt too sick and tired to even think about sex. But Harry was Harry and, well, Louis wasn’t dead yet.

When Louis’s phone rang after a good period of sulking, he almost hoped it was Harry calling, but was equally relieved when he saw that it was Lottie.

“What’s up?” he greeted.

“Hey! How are you?” she asked.

“Fine,” Louis said, choosing not to tell her about his probable fever. She would only get angry at him for medicating himself before checking it, and would probably abduct him to take him to the doctor.

Before Lottie could continue the conversation, Louis asked,

“Hey, do you know that one co-worker of yours that liked me? Pat, I think his name was.”

“Pete,” Lottie corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Yes, and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not setting you up with Peter. You can do much, much better. What the hell happened with Harry last night?”

“Nothing. We had dinner; watched a movie. It was nice…and, well, just nice.”

“I’m sorry, bro.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. We’re friends. Friends that clearly aren’t going to have sex, and if I’m going to go out, I’d like to do it with a bang, if you know what I mean.”

“Obviously I know what you mean, Lou. That wasn’t subtle, just very, very lame.”

Louis smiled, unbothered. Lottie continued,

“Well, if Harry isn’t going to work out, what about Zayn?”

“Zayn?”

“Yeah. His and Niall’s friend.”

“I know who Zayn is, but no. Obviously, he’s quite good-looking. I mean, I’ll be damned if that isn’t the hottest trio I’ve ever seen, but no. He already lost one person he was fucking.”

“I think his fiancé was more than just someone he was fucking,” Lottie said with a small, though humorless, laugh.

“Exactly, and looking at the three of them, his fiancé had to be gorgeous too, not some sickly little guy with bruises under his eyes and elbows sharp enough to poke someone’s eye out.”

“He died of cancer, Lou,” Lottie said softly. “Liam-Zayn’s fiancé-he had cancer. Brain cancer.”

“Oh,” Louis said, his voice coming out airy. For a moment, he wondered why Harry hadn’t told him what happened to Liam, but realized that, even if he accidentally shaved with cool whip sometimes, he probably at least had sense enough not to tell a cancer patient that he’d once had a friend who died from the disease.

Suddenly, everything else about Harry seemed to make sense; Why he was so good with the patients and why he was so drawn to Louis. Louis was dying and Harry wanted to try to save him like he couldn’t do for his best friend.

“Stupid,” Louis muttered to himself again.

“What?” Lottie asked.

“Nothing. I just think it’s stupid you won’t hook me up with Pat.”

“Pete.”

“Whatever.”

“Louis, he’s disgusting.”

“Well, I look disgusting.”

“No, you don’t, and he’s just gross, from the inside out. I don’t think I’d set my worst enemy up with him.”

“Fine,” Louis sighed. “Maybe I’ll just start going to a support group for people with chronic illnesses.” 

“Lou, that’s a great idea,” Lottie said, the surprise in her voice clear. “Just let me know when and where, and I’ll go with you.”

“Um, no offense, sis, but it will be a little awkward for me to pick up sick guys with you there,” Louis told her, knowing that if she was there in his house right then, she would likely smack the smile off his face. As it was, she groaned so loud that Louis had to move the phone from his ear.

Richie offered a good enough time for Harry to not have any regrets, but he didn’t feel any better after leaving his bed and heading home. He still thought about Louis too often and wanted to reach out to him with every free moment he had.

So Harry made sure he didn’t have many free moments.

Harry enjoyed his job, but he wasn’t a workaholic, so he typically had a few minutes of dread whenever he was asked to come in early, stay late, or cover a shift. Now, he made sure to go out of his way to find a shift that needed covered. Whenever that plan failed, he found himself at Niall or Zayn’s, and when they managed to avoid his company, Harry was sleeping; whether that be alone or with somebody else. He didn’t reach out to Louis and Louis never tried to get a hold of him. Harry often wanted to text the other, simply to make sure he was alright, but knew it would be unnecessary. If he wasn’t alright, Harry would see him at the hospital but, for two weeks, Louis managed to stay away.

_I’m going to text him tonight_ , Harry decided as he walked into work that afternoon. _At least let him know I’m thinking about him…in a friend way._

‘A friend way’ was not, of course, the only way Harry was thinking about Louis, but the other didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, Paige,” Harry greeted his fellow nurse, offering her a smile as he clocked in. The one she gave back was only half-hearted, and it was then that Harry noticed that she seemed to be fighting off tears. Frowning, thinking something must have happened with her cousin Andrea, Harry asked,

“What’s wrong?”

At first, his suspicion seemed to be confirmed when she said,

“It’s just hard to see Andrea so down and discouraged.”

“Did something in particular happen to make her feel that way?”

“Oh, just that whole scare with Louis.”

“Louis?!”

For a moment, Paige looked at him, confused, before a realization dawned on her and she said,

“Oh, that’s right. You weren’t here yesterday. All these twelve-hour shifts are turning my brain to mush.”

Normally, Harry would have taken the time to empathize with her, but he had a more pressing matter on his mind.

“What’s going on with Louis?”

“He had another seizure yesterday at home, and then two more when he got here. He’s resting now, and hasn’t had one in almost eight hours, but it’s still obviously concerning. He has more scans and tests later, and I tried telling Andrea not to worry too much until then, but of course it’s hard, you know? He’s helped her quite a bit through this, emotionally, and he always stays so chipper that I think she forgets he’s just as sick as she is. Plus, she’s probably wondering if this is what the end is going to look like for her…”

_The end_. Harry shook his head, trying to stop the buzzing in his ears, and he thought Paige was still talking when he interrupted to say,

“Should I go check on him?”

If he’d interrupted, the other nurse didn’t say anything.

“Sure, if you want. I was going to before I went on break, but I could _really_ use a cup of coffee, so if you’d like to…”

“I’ll check on him,” Harry confirmed, trying not to sound too eager. “You go get yourself some coffee.”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

_I wish_ , Harry thought, though the woman was obviously just saying that as an expression.

After assuring Paige that he was fine and didn’t need anything to eat or drink yet, Harry headed to Louis’s room, having to turn back around halfway when he realized he’d forgotten the patient’s chart.

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous before entering the room. He supposed he expected Louis to look like he was on his deathbed-maybe even to pass the moment he walked in-but Harry was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he saw that Louis didn’t look much different than the last time he’d seen him only two weeks ago. He hadn’t lost a substantial amount of weight, and he was a bit paler than usual, but there was no blue or gray tinge to his skin like many patients who were nearing the end of their lives. The smell of impending death that Harry had already, unfortunately, grown accustomed to was not in the room, and Louis’s eyes were closed, his face relaxed, but not unnaturally so. He was simply in a deep, medicine-induced sleep.

Realizing he’d been staring, Harry jolted himself back to Earth and began making notes on Louis’s chart. Somehow, despite the multiple medications that Louis was on, and despite the fact that Harry was being quiet, Louis woke up, and when Harry looked away from the monitor, blue eyes met his, almost making Harry jump.

“Oh, good morning,” he greeted. “Er, afternoon.”

“Hi,” Louis said, his voice hoarse. “Guess a man’s got to almost die to see you regularly.”

“Oh, hush,” Harry said, feeling his face go hot. Louis’s smile, though tired, was one of the orneriest things that Harry had ever seen, but his words still sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

Louis opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but winced instead, his mouth snapping shut as he grimaced in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, feeling like a failure for letting Louis feel pain at all.

“Just sore,” Louis said. “I fell during my first seizure so now I’ve got more bruises than I care to count and a nice goose egg on the back of my head.”

“You sure do,” Harry agreed after checking the bump. “Have they examined you for a concussion?”

He glanced down at the patient chart, but Louis answered before Harry could truly focus on finding the information he desired.

“Yeah. I don’t have one.”

“That’s…good.”

At Harry’s hesitation, Louis gave a laugh.

“Yeah, all things considered.”

Harry wanted to apologize; damn near spill his guts for the way he’d been acting. But Harry wasn’t sure if he was ready for that conversation yet,and this was definitely not the place to have it, so instead, he simply asked Louis if he could get him anything. When he was told no, he promised to check on the other in a little bit.

When Harry checked his phone during a quick bathroom break, he saw that he’d received a text from Richie, asking if he wanted to go to his place that night. Harry mentally wished him the best before blocking his number.


End file.
